Means To An End
by Laine3112
Summary: A covert and dangerous assignment tests the bond between Tony and McGee and forces Gibbs to face some unpleasant truths. Can he hold his team together or is it too late? Spoiler for Season 6 episode Cloak. Tony & McGee - Tony & Gibbs Friendship/Angst
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **Ah, Season Six…like many NCIS fans I was quite disappointed in what I considered to be the deterioration of the team dynamic that is a key element of the show. I felt that many of the character relationships were way off kilter.

This story began as (and still is) a case fic and my attempt to return to the Tony/McGee friendship and banter of old. However, as it progressed, I was lured back to my favourite theme - Gibbs/Tony friendship/family. I found it intriguing that after seeming to distance himself from Tony for most of S6, Gibbs provided him so much support in Bounce and especially in Aliyah! What happened in between? What caused the turnaround?

Set in Season 6, after Cloak but before Bounce, the later chapters address a possible cause for the deterioration the team dynamic and the strong bonds of friendship between the characters. Those of you who have read my stories before, will know that I like to mix up the drama, action, humour and angst throughout the story to (hopefully) provide some light and shade. This one is no different but it has a huge Tony/Gibbs angst toward the end.

The story is complete and I will post a chapter a day. I hope you enjoy it or that it at least provides "food for thought." Cheers, L

**LG, To have you in my corner as I wrestle with storylines and dialogue is wonderful…to have you in my corner as I battle life's biggest challenge, is priceless. I love you, L**

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Means To An End **

**Chapter One**

**Tuesday 2000 **

The Secretary of the Navy, Phillip Davenport pressed the off button on the remote and watched as the large plasma in his office faded to black. Another button reversed the dimming effect of the lights. He turned to face the two men seated beside him.

"There it is Leon. You know what we know. This assignment is highly classified - it must be quick and covert. If news of this leaked to the public there'd be mass hysteria," SecNav said.

NCIS Director, Leon Vance nodded his understanding. "Excuse me, Sir, but wouldn't Special Ops or Navy Seals be better equipped to take on an operation such as this."

SecNav stood and paced impatiently around his luxurious Pentagon office. He was not a man who was used to explaining himself or his decisions.

"Most of our Special Ops and Seal teams have been deployed overseas. To recall them at such short notice would require too much red tape and attract far too much attention. We have a very short window of opportunity, Director and we do not have time to waste," he hissed.

Jason Brady, Senior Aide to the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence spoke up from his position at the far end of the sofa.

"Director Vance, this assignment has come straight from the Under Secretary himself. From the highly sensitive details you've just seen, you can understand how imperative it is to keep this matter as "need to know" with as few people involved as possible."

"This assignment is get in, get the data, get out. No questions asked," SecNav continued. "I assured the Under Secretary that NCIS was more than capable of handling this operation. Was I wrong Leon?"

"No, Sir," Director Vance replied. "The agents I have in mind can handle the job. The tough part will be running interference and diverting the attention of the other two team members who will _most definitely_ be asking questions."

"I don't care how you deal with your people, Leon, but deal with them! Show me that I wasn't wrong to choose you as Jenny Shepherd's replacement," SecNav snarled. Vance shifted uncomfortably at the verbal challenge.

"This is a rare opportunity for your agency, Director Vance," Brady added. "If this is done right, it will be a big feather in the cap of your agency and your leadership ability. Not only will it make a lot of important people sit up and take notice, but I can guarantee you that the Under Secretary will certainly have NCIS at the forefront of his mind when it's time for next year's budget allocation."

The intercom buzzed and SecNav moved to speak briefly into his desk phone. He looked up at the two men.

"My next appointment is here," he said bringing a sudden end to any further discussion. "I will be attending a conference with the Secretary of Defence for the next two days and will be unreachable. Mr Brady will act as your liaison, Leon. He has top-level clearance in regard to this assignment and is to be kept apprised of any and all developments."

"Yes, Sir," Director Vance replied as he rose to his feet and headed for the door.

"Do this right, Director," SecNav ordered. "The successful outcome of this assignment is not only crucial for national security but also for any future you hope to have in this or any other agency." He closed the door firmly behind them.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Brady looked at Vance as they cleared the last security checkpoint and walked towards the parking station at the Pentagon. "So," he started, "you mentioned that you already have agents in mind for this assignment?"

"That's right," Vance replied. "Two agents attached to my Major Case Response Team."

"And you're confident they can get this done – no questions asked?"

Vance drew himself up to his full height. It was bad enough that he had to bite his tongue and endure the snide innuendo and comments from SecNav, he was not about to cop any crap from the arrogant young man chosen as his liaison for the duration of this assignment – no matter who's senior aide he was.

"I can assure you, Brady, that I would not have selected them if I was not certain they could successfully complete the assignment," he said sternly. "One is a computer specialist and the other is a Liaison Officer from Mossad. Both are highly trained and will follow orders without question or protest."

"Of course, Director," Brady replied, "and the diversion you mentioned?"

"The team is currently in North Carolina where they've just finalised a murder investigation at Camp Lejeune. They're due back around noon tomorrow," Vance said thinking out loud. "I need to divert the team leader and senior field agent to another area for a day or so to avoid any unnecessary questions and delays. By the time they get back, McGee and David will have already successfully completed the assignment."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

**Wednesday 0800**

The two men were only feet apart, each carefully sizing up the other and strategising the move that would bring about the demise of their opponent. Expressions of intense concentration and the overwhelming desire to do irreparable harm filled the quiet room with a thick tension-filled atmosphere.

The younger man's eyes flicked up to meet the intense gaze of his older opponent. Though there was a vast age difference, he knew from experience that to take the older man lightly, would be a fatal mistake.

After ten excruciating minutes, the younger man was about to make his move when his opponent spoke.

"You know, Mr Palmer, chess originated in India around the 7th century AD," Ducky said. "The game was in fact a battle-plan drawn on a smaller scale, to find out ways and means of outsmarting the enemy."

Doctor Mallard and his young assistant, Jimmy Palmer had attended to their one and only "customer" several hours earlier. Their reports were completed, tests run and results analysed and their supply cabinets and coroners van were fully re-stocked. They were taking advantage of a rare quiet day to complete a game of chess they had started almost a week ago.

Jimmy was nodding as though he was listening carefully but his attention was focused entirely on his next move. Ducky had already placed him in "check" four times and he was desperate to avoid another embarrassing defeat at the hands of his mentor.

"In fact chess soon became very popular world-wide. Landlords during the Renaissance period of the 12th and 13th centuries even played with live people who were beheaded instead of simply being captured!" the elderly ME replied. "Take your time, Mr Palmer, see the whole board. Concentrate."

Jimmy studied all the pieces on the board, trying to anticipate Ducky's next move while formulating a winning strategy of his own. It was still a great source of embarrassment to Jimmy that Doctor Mallard casually countered his carefully formulated moves about 30 seconds after he'd made them. The Doctor had a mind like a steel trap. Of course, Ducky didn't have someone chatting relentlessly in his ear while he was trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Chess is a game of war, Mr Palmer, created to train warriors or as a civilized way for kingdoms to settle their differences since chess is a battle between two armies. It was brought to Europe by crusaders…."

"Doctor, _please!" _Jimmy pleaded struggling to keep his focus on the game.

"Oh, of course my boy," Ducky replied, "how thoughtless of me! I should have realised that I may have been inadvertently disturbing your thought process."

Jimmy smiled to himself, knowing that the wily older man's constant ramblings were as much a strategic manoeuvre on his part as the movement of any chess piece.

Finally, after 12 intense minutes, Jimmy brought his bishop into play and removed Ducky's knight. He leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin, thinking that he had just gained the upper hand in this game.

"I believe it's your move, Dr Mallard," Jimmy proudly stated.

"Oh!" Ducky said with surprise. "Oh yes, so it is!" Then he moved his rook into position and announced. "Checkmate, Mr Palmer."

Jimmy was still staring open-mouthed at the chessboard when the sliding doors opened and the agency janitor, Harry Cooper walked into Autopsy looking decidedly agitated.

"Mr Cooper, my good man! What brings you to our neck of the woods this fine morning?" Ducky greeted.

Harry Cooper was a portly, man in his mid-fifties. He had worked as the agency's head janitor for several years now, unobtrusively going about his work in an efficient and almost transparent manner. Noticing the man's unusual nervousness and anxiety, Ducky quickly asked Jimmy to find Harry a chair and a glass of water.

When Harry had calmed a little, he told Ducky and Palmer of the blatant theft of cleaning appliances from the janitor's storeroom. Harry was particularly concerned and sought Ducky's counsel about how best to handle this delicate matter with the other janitorial staff and whether it should be brought to the attention of the Director.

As Harry reached for his glass of water, Ducky glanced at his young assistant who needed no words to hear the instruction and nodded his understanding. As Ducky offered Harry further discussion over a nice cup of tea, Jimmy surreptitiously slipped out of the autopsy rooms.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

**Wednesday 0930**

An hour and a half into their return trip to Washington, Tony scowled and muttered under his breath as he guided the NCIS sedan, north on the I-95.

"Come on, Tony, how many times do I have to say I'm sorry!" an exasperated and bored McGee said from the passenger seat. "You can't ignore me all the way back to Washington! Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Okay, how's this? I can't believe that you, of all people, saw fit to stab me in the back and rob me of one of life's pleasures!" Tony answered in an uncharacteristically surly fashion. "So please excuse me if the thought of spending four hours driving back to DC with you, doesn't excite me. There…. I said something. Happy?"

"You're just in a bad mood because the Boss took Ziva to interview that suspect and not you," McGee countered.

"Just so you know, Probie, after taking witness statements from 43 marines during our last investigation, I could care less about interviewing another suspect."

"Then why are you mad at me?" McGee complained.

"The Director arranged for the Boss and I to go to Parris Island to interview a suspect. We were just about to leave when you opened your big pie-hole about the suspect being Turkish and only speaking a few words of English."

"Well, in my defence, the Boss asked me to check out the background of the suspect the Marines are holding at Parris Island. When he heard the guy's name was Serkan Toros – a Turkish name, he decided to take Ziva along as a translator," McGee said. "Anyway, what's so exciting about going to Parris Island?"

"If you must know, McKilljoy, they'll be flying home tomorrow night in a Gulf Stream while, _lucky me_, I get to listen to you prattle on about your new PDA for 300 miles."

McGee's face lit up as he looked at his prized PDA and ran his finger lovingly over the state of the art device.

"This isn't just any PDA, Tony," McGee enthused. "This is the Addison 345XL. It has a 240-by-320-pixel touch screen, camera and video capabilities; it's automatically in sync with my laptop and desk PC's. It even has a MP3 facility capable of storing up to 20,000 songs."

"Enough space to download every Yanni and panpipe recording ever made," Tony muttered as McGee continued nonplussed.

"It has all the bells and whistles, Wi-Fi card for wireless networking, GPS Navigator capabilities, it can act as a pedometer, calorie counter, has an accounting program to balance your cheque book, and has a built in sensor on the back that can take your pulse and blood pressure and tell whether it's at safe level for your age and body weight….."

Right on queue the device emitted three loud beeps.

McGee smiled and reached for his backpack. "It also acts as a reminder to tell me to take my vitamins."

Tony frowned. "What does something like that cost?"

"Actually, if you're really interested, my supplier could probably get you one for about two thousand." McGee replied matter-of-factly.

"Dollars or pesos?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Dollars, of course."

"Thanks anyway, Probie, but for two thousand dollars, I'd expect it to do my laundry and wash and wax my car. Where'd you get that kind of money, anyway? You write another book?" Tony asked suspiciously.

"No. Deep Six has just been released as a paperback and the sales have been great," McGee replied proudly, "so, I decided to treat myself. I've even downloaded a Spanish tutorial on my PDA so I can listen whenever we have any downtime."

"You're learning Spanish?" Tony asked.

"Yep, I thought knowing another language would enhance my abilities as a field agent, maybe even improve my chances of getting my own undercover assignment. I'm really starting to get the hang of it, too. Do you think another language would help?"

"Hmmm…being fluent in another language is a definite plus in the arsenal of an agent, McLinguist, and learning Spanish isn't a bad idea. After all, there's not much call these days for Klingon or Elven unless you happen to find yourself trapped on Middle Earth and under attack from a Bird of Prey."

McGee bit back his retort and thought despairingly about the many miserable miles ahead with his Senior Field Agent in such a foul temper. Perhaps, if he could steer the conversation to one of Tony's favourite topics, his mood would improve and the trip would be more pleasant for both of them. McGee's eyes widened as he thought of a solution.

"So, Tony," he said, "you still seeing Christy? Two weeks – must be close to a record?"

He thought he'd struck gold as a large smile appeared on Tony's face but it disappeared just as quickly.

"After two nights of sharing a hotel room with you and listening to you snore all night, McBuzz-saw, I can't wait to see the lovely Christy."

McGee rolled his eyes. "Just for the record, Tony, I do not snore."

"You do so!!" Tony said emphatically. "Each night I had to get up and push your bed away from the window so you wouldn't inhale the curtains!"

"That was you?" McGee asked. "I wondered how that happened."

"What about you, Probie? Are you seeing anyone?"

"Nah….not since Stacey and I broke up a few months back. It just didn't work out, I guess."

"Months??" Tony repeated incredulously. "Months!! You must be feeling a little frustrated there, McMonk. Come on, Probie!! You're a single man in your prime – you've gotta exercise the dog or it's gonna break the leash. What are you waiting for??"

McGee was quickly starting to regret raising the topic. "Well, Tony, it's not always easy to find a nice, intelligent girl with similar interests."

"That's why you've got to get out more, Probie. Contrary to the Geek Gazette, the hot babes don't all hang out in Book Clubs and Star Trek conventions."

"Is that right? I suppose you would recommend your method of meeting girls," McGee defended. "It should be against the law to loiter on college campuses and harass the female sophomores….wait a minute….it _is_ against the law!!"

"Laugh it up, McSexless, Christy happens to be 29 years old and an Associate Professor of Psychology."

"That explains it," McGee said nodding his head.

"Explains what?"

"She's probably using you as a test study for her thesis on Abnormal Adolescent Behaviour in Adults," McGee replied with the sudden realisation that making the rest of the trip in silence wasn't so bad after all and he placed the ear-buds of his beloved PDA into his ears.

**--oo00oo--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo---**

Ducky couldn't help but cringe as the vibration of the loud music and indecipherable lyrics made its presence known through the soles of his sneakers and caused an annoying buzzing sensation in his head. He walked to the inner office and turned the volume way down noting that, in his opinion, it did nothing to improve the quality of the music.

Abby had been completely focussed on the minuscule wool fibre trapped under the glass slide of her microscope but looked up sharply as the volume of her music was lowered.

"Hey, Jimmy! Will you quit doing that!" she complained as a large Caff-Pow appeared on the counter beside her.

"Oh, it's you, Duckman," she said. "I thought it was Jimmy again. Not that I don't appreciate you and Jimmy delivering my daily Caff-Pow rations but Jimmy messes with my music every time he comes in here. It's very…disconcerting…in a Gibbs-ish kind of way."

Ducky gave her an understanding smile. "I've sent Mr Palmer on a small errand, so I thought I'd bring this to you myself. After all, we need to keep our promise and avoid the wrath of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Ducky replied with a wink.

It was then that Abby noticed how Ducky kept glancing nervously over his shoulder at the doorway.

"Is there something wrong, Ducky?" she asked.

"Wrong?. .Is something wrong?… I'm not sure I know what you mean, Abigail. Whatever could be wrong?"

Abby's eyes narrowed in suspicion. " You seem a little jumpy."

"Jumpy? Me? I've been described as many things in my time but never jumpy. Whatever would I have to be jumpy about? Hmmm?" Ducky enquired.

The sound of running feet pounded along the corridor towards the laboratory and Jimmy Palmer made a very brief appearance. His attempt to stop abruptly on the slippery surface found him sliding right past the glass doors of the lab, arms windmilling as he tried to regain his balance. Seconds later, he entered the lab at a more sedate pace although red-faced and slightly out of breath.

"Well, Mr Palmer?" Ducky asked. "Did it work?"

Jimmy smiled. "Like a charm, Doctor, crisis averted. I did exactly as you suggested and the last I saw of Harry, he was shaking his head and muttering to himself about needing a holiday."

"Well done, my boy, well done!" Ducky enthused.

Abby looked from one to the other, her hands on her hips and her eyes still narrowed. "Okay, spill," she ordered. "I know that something's going on and I want to know what it is."

"Actually, my dear, Mr Palmer and I just engaged in a little subterfuge - on your behalf, I might add," Ducky told her.

"On my behalf??" Abby said, confused.

"Well, you see, Abigail, Mr Palmer and I had a recent discussion with our industrious janitor, Harry Cooper," Ducky explained. "It seems that many of his recently requisitioned cleaning appliances have been misappropriated from the Janitor's storeroom and he was threatening to ask the Director for access to the security tapes."

"Uh oh," Abby said looking decidedly guilty and turning in the direction of a nearby collection of mops, one bearing the impassive and slightly impatient face of Gibbs, while the others wore the bemused and surprised faces of Tony, McGee and Ziva.

"Not to worry, my dear, Mr Palmer made a quick dash to the local hardware store, purchased four identical mops and placed them back in the storeroom before our dear Harry could demand a thorough search of the building. So you see, Abigail, no harm has been done."

"Aw…thanks you guys," Abby said wrapping them both in a grateful hug. "I'm so sorry that I caused you so much trouble," she said sadly as she turned back towards her mops. "I just miss them all so much!"

"It is exceedingly quiet without them here but cheer up, my dear!" Ducky consoled her. "With the Camp Lejeune investigation finalised, I believe they are on their way and should arrive back in a few hours."

"Yay!!" Abby said, suddenly a lot more animated as she picked up the mops and placed them all in her own small supply room.

"Um… Doctor…I just ran into Agent Balboa, and he mentioned that the Director sent Special Agent Gibbs and Tony to Parris Island to assist in an investigation there. They won't be back until tomorrow. Sorry Abby," Palmer advised regretfully as he watched Abby's shoulders slump with disappointment. "On the bright side, McGee and Ziva will be back around lunch time."

Palmer and Ducky exchanged a wistful look and watched as Abby sighed deeply, walked back to her supply room and re-positioned the Gibbs and Tony mops beside her workstation.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

**Thanks for reading!! Hope you'll join me tomorrow when Tony & McGee arrive back at the Navy yard and learn the details of the assignment, L**

Thank you to **WhenIComeAround186** - you and I know why.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

_Thank you for your kind reviews and alerts. Every one is much appreciated, L_

**Wednesday, 11:00**

Tony was growing increasingly annoyed at his partner. Not only was his expensive new PDA beeping reminders at regular intervals but McGee had been sprouting innocuous Spanish phrases in a stilted and broken accent for the last 20 minutes.

_"Buenos días, cómo anda hoy_," McGee said attracting another irritated glance from his partner.

"¿Me podría dirigir al baño, porfavor?"

Tony nudged McGee who removed the ear-buds of his PDA from his ears.

"Okay Probie, you've got my attention. I know I'm going to regret asking…but what the hell are you doing?"

"I told you…I'm trying to learn another language. Since Spanish is the 2nd most common language spoken in the US, I thought it may help me to get my own undercover assignment. I'm sick of always being the guy stuck in the surveillance truck."

"Hey, believe me, when you're undercover and surrounded by bad guys, it's very reassuring to know that there are guys like you in the surveillance truck."

"Thanks, Tony," McGee said, surprised by the compliment.

"If you're serious about learning Spanish, you're gonna need something a little more useful than 'Good morning, how are you' and 'Can you direct me to the bathroom, please?'

"I am serious, Tony," McGee stressed. "Ziva's fluent in five languages and you're fluent in three. I'm just trying to improve myself."

"Well maybe you could improve yourself some other time. You're driving me crazy here!"

"You know, Tony, as my Senior field Agent and someone who's fluent in Spanish, you could be more supportive," McGee said trying to disguise his bruised feelings.

Tony thought for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. "I'm sorry, Probie, you're right."

"I am?"

"You are," Tony affirmed. "Okay, show me what you've got. Here's the scenario - your car comes to a screeching halt in front of a small warehouse being used to store firearms by Spanish speaking bad guys. Your men have the place surrounded. Making certain to stay behind cover, you get to your feet and yell…?"

McGee faltered for a minute, wracking his brain for the correct phrase. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with satisfaction and he confidently replied.

"_Agentes federales! Alimente sus pollos y puso el gato fuera!"_

Tony's mouth hung open and he was momentarily lost for words.

"Well?" McGee asked excitedly. "What do you think? Not too shabby, huh?"

"Probie, you just said 'Federal Agents! Feed your chickens and let the cat out.' The bad guys are either very confused or laughing their asses off."

McGee was horrified. "Really?" he said. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Tony replied, "but as your supportive Senior Field Agent, let me help you with a phrase that's guaranteed to save your life."

"I'd really appreciate that, Tony, what is it?"

"_Paren de habla español o yo los mataré."_

"_Paren… de habla…español…o yo los mat…mataré." _McGee repeated carefully.

"You got it, Probie; you're a regular Antonio Bandares!" Tony exclaimed watching McGee almost preen from the compliment.

"Thanks, but what does that mean?"

"It means, stop with the Spanish or I will kill you myself," Tony said before flicking McGee an impatient look and switching the car radio on loudly.

_**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**_

_**Wednesday, 1130, The Pentagon**_

The executive assistant to the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence replaced the receiver of her phone and looked up at the young man standing in front of her desk.

"Mr Brady, the Under Secretary will see you now," she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Jason Brady entered the large office and waited until the Under Secretary looked up and addressed him.

"Jason, sorry I had to postpone our meeting last night. I was called to the White House for a briefing with the Joint Chiefs," he said.

"Of course, Sir," Brady replied.

"So…how'd it go?"

"Fine, Sir. I met with SecNav and Director Vance as scheduled. Vance has chosen two NCIS agents with the necessary specialist skills to complete the assignment," Brady reported.

"Good," the Under Secretary nodded, "what do we know about these agents?"

"Sir, I took the liberty of checking their personnel files. Special Agent Timothy McGee has a Masters in Computer Forensics from MIT and a BSc in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins. The other is a Liaison Officer from Mossad, Officer Ziva David, highly trained in firearms, explosives, hand to hand combat and espionage – she's trained to follow orders and more than capable of getting her partner and herself safely in and out. They are highly regarded and are both members of the NCIS Major Case Response Team."

"When do you brief them?"

"They are currently returning from an assignment in North Carolina. The Director has arranged for the two senior members of their team to be diverted to Parris Island. This will avoid any unnecessary questions and keep the number of people involved to an absolute minimum," Brady advised. "They should be back at NCIS headquarters by noon. They'll be briefed immediately and given a few hours to prepare. We have a transport waiting at a private airfield and the operation will proceed tonight as scheduled."

"What about this…Rashid Mohsin? There's no doubt that he's the mole we've been looking for?"

"No doubt what-so-ever, Sir, he's definitely our mole," Brady replied. "We've had him under surveillance for sometime now. He regularly meets with two Pakistani citizens here on student visas; both are known to sympathize with the terrorist group Harakat ul-Mujahideen or HuM as they're known."

"How does someone like that get a job in the Pentagon, let alone as a Foreign Analyst in the Department of Defence?" the Under Secretary asked.

"He was born and educated right here in Washington, Sir," Brady answered. "He passed all the security screenings and background checks with flying colours. We'll leak the information to him this evening, just after the NCIS agents leave for the assignment. He'll contact the cell – I'm sure of it."

"Excellent, if this works according to plan, the President will have no choice but to re-consider streamlining this department," the Under Secretary said. "I don't need to tell you how imperative it is that this operation is completed successfully."

"No, Sir," Brady replied. "I understand completely."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

The elevator doors opened and Tony and McGee walked quickly into the bullpen and to their respective desks, both wearing looks that could kill.

"Timmy, you're back!" Abby squealed excitedly and she ran towards him with her arms spread wide in anticipation of a hug. She stopped short noticing Tony for the first time. "Tony! You're back too! We were told that Ziva and Timmy were coming home and…and that you and Gibbs were…" she stopped speaking when she sensed the distinct tension in the air and saw their angry faces.

"What's wrong?" she asked looking from one to the other. "Oh my God, something bad happened, didn't it? Where's Gibbs and where's Ziva? That's why there not here, isn't it? Something really bad has happened to Gibbs, or to Ziva, or to Gibbs and Ziva? Somebody tell me!"

"Gibbs and Ziva are fine, Abs," McGee replied. "Gibbs decided to take Ziva with him to Parris Island instead of Tony. They should be home tomorrow night."

Abby noticeably relaxed but her brow furrowed again and she asked. "Then, what's wrong with you two?"

"There's nothing wrong, Abby, really. It's just that there's no pleasing some people, is there, Tony?" McGee said accusingly while throwing a frosty glance Tony's way.

"One little thing, McGee," Tony snapped. "I asked you to do one little thing before we left the drive-thru and now, instead of having a McFeast, I'm stuck with the Fillet-o'-Fish."

"Tony, I offered to give you my McFeast and you told me to choke on it!" McGee objected.

"You'd already taken two McBites!"

"I was hungry and I didn't know they'd messed up our order!" McGee said.

"That is why you should always check your order before you leave the drive-thru," Tony replied through gritted teeth. "Didn't you learn anything from Lethal Weapon 2?"

"I like Fillet-o'-Fish," Abby said.

Tony handed the burger to Abby who wrapped him in a huge welcome back hug before moving across to McGee and hugging him too. She didn't miss the tense muscles and the angry looks still being exchanged between them and thought it best to take her Fillet-o'-Fish and seek the sanctuary of her lab. Besides, she needed to swap her Tony mop for her Ziva mop.

"Umm, guys!" She said. "Don't take this the wrong way, cause I'm really, really, really happy that you're back...but after 72 hours together, you really should think about spending some time apart."

With one final icy look at each other, they switched on their computers and started to prepare their reports of the Camp Lejeune case. Only ten minutes had passed when the high-pitched beeping of McGee's PDA resonated through the tense atmosphere.

"Now what? More vitamins?" Tony asked tersely.

"If you must know, Tony, it's just a reminder to make my regular 3 monthly dental appointment," McGee replied. "Regular check-ups are paramount to good dental health."

McGee was spared Tony's retort as Agent Balboa rounded the corner to the bullpen.

"Oh, hey guys, you're back!" he said, stating the obvious. "Director Vance was looking for you. He said he wanted to see you in his office the minute you got back."

"Thanks, man," Tony replied as Balboa waved an acknowledgement and headed back to his desk.

They rose to their feet and headed for the stairs to the Director's office.

"What did you do now?" McGee growled.

"I didn't do anything…at least, I don't think...nah, he wouldn't have found out about that," Tony replied.

"Found out about what?" McGee asked nervously.

"Nothing. It's better if you don't know, Probie. In fact, you're at your best when you know nothing."

"Wonder what this is about?" McGee look troubled.

"Don't ask me – he hates me. However, you, McChosen One, have been his blue-eyed boy since Vance and his tooth-pick rode into town."

"Have not."

"Have too."

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," came the soft voice of the Director's secretary. "I'm sorry to interrupt such a highly intellectual conversation but the Director is expecting you. You can go straight in."

Reaching for the door handle, McGee first gave the door a brisk knock before turning the handle and opening the door halfway.

"Director, you wanted to see us?" he asked, eyeing the man in the expensive Italian suit who was standing with Vance.

"Yes, Agent McGee, come in," Vance replied.

McGee entered the office, followed a few paces behind by Tony.

"That's not Officer David!" the Senior Aide said looking at Tony accusingly.

Tony shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands palms up.

"Okay, you got me," he said before turning to the Director. "I don't know who this guy is, Director, but I think you should hire him. NCIS can use a man with his observation skills."

"Where is Officer David?" Vance demanded.

"She went to Parris Island with Special Agent Gibbs, Sir," McGee answered.

"Excuse me, Special Agent McGee," Tony said patronisingly, "but as Senior Field Agent and Acting Team Leader, I believe that I should do the talking."

Tony turned back to the Director.

"She went to Parris Island with Special Agent Gibbs, Sir," Tony repeated as McGee rolled his eyes to the heavens.

"DiNozzo, I made it clear that you were to go to Parris Island with Gibbs," the Director said furiously. "You want to tell me why my orders weren't followed?"

"Probie, answer the man!" Tony said.

"Well, Sir, when we got your instruction, Special Agent Gibbs asked me to contact the NCIS agent at Parris Island and get some background information on the case so that he'd be up to speed when he arrived. We were told, the name of the suspect…a Serkan Toros, which is a Turkish name. We were told that Toros didn't speak much English. As Officer David is fluent in Turkish, Special Agent Gibbs decided to take her as an interpreter and directed Special Agent DiNozzo and I to return to the office and finalise the paperwork on our current case."

The Director's face wore an expression that said he was far from happy. Then he and Brady walked to a corner of the room and spoke in voices so hushed that even Tony's sharp hearing could not pick up what they were saying. Tony and McGee exchanged a shrug and a nervous glance.

A few minutes passed before the hushed conversation ended and the Director and Brady returned to stand with the two agents.

"It seems the decision to disregard my order has forced a change of plans," Vance said. "This is Jason Brady, Senior Aide to the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence."

He watched as the three men shook hands and he motioned for them to take their seats at the conference table in front of the plasma screen.

"NCIS has been directed to undertake a critical and covert operation to extract vital information of an imminent terrorist attack on a major US naval base," the Director explained. "The information has been heavily encrypted and emailed to the home of Mehmood Khalil a known Harakat ul-Mujahideen member and Al-Qaeda sympathiser."

"Let me guess – you need us to break into Khalil's home and get the plans," Tony stated.

"Nice guess, DiNozzo!" Vance replied sarcastically.

"Thank you, Sir, my power of deduction serves me well."

Their attention returned to the plasma screen where Khalil's passport photo appeared.

"According to our intel, Khalil is currently on a trip to India and Pakistan but is due back in just over 48 hours," Brady explained. "We need a team to go in to his home, decrypt the information and email it to a secure email address at the Pentagon and then get out without leaving any sign that anyone has been there. They must not know that we are on to their plan. The Department of Defence has their best people on stand-by to receive the email and develop a counter measure to foil the plot and arrest all those implicated."

"Don't we have Special Ops or Navy Seals for this kind of thing?" Tony asked.

"They're all deployed overseas," Brady explained. "It would take too long to get them back."

"McGee, your specialist computer skills make you first choice for the decryption and information extraction" Vance stated matter-of-factly whilst McGee suppressed his obvious excitement. Officer David was our first choice to get you safely in and out. Since she's unavailable and due to the imminent deadline, we have little choice but to include you, DiNozzo."

"Thank you, Director, I'm touched by that overwhelming show of confidence," Tony replied with mock sincerity.

"You're walking a fine line, DiNozzo," Vance warned.

"I think it's my new shoes, I haven't quite broken them in yet. What about back-up?" Tony asked, suddenly very serious and almost managing to wrong-foot Vance with the sharp change in attitude.

"This is to be a covert operation – we have no time and can't risk anyone else outside the two of you, knowing about this," Vance advised.

"Not even Gibbs?" McGee asked.

"Not even Gibbs?" Vance repeated with obvious irritation.

"He's our lead agent," Tony answered, "I'm not comfortable leaving him out of the loop."

"The last I heard – I was the Director of NCIS not Gibbs! Besides, if all goes according to plan this operation will be over by the time he gets back."

"It's the _if_ in that sentence that concerns me, Sir," Tony replied. "Who did the intel?"

"There were several sources, but the intel is mainly from the CIA," Brady volunteered.

"Oh, this just gets better and better!" Tony laughed caustically. "We're using intel gained by an agency known not to work and play well with others. I don't want to look like Mr Negative here, but don't you think that seems a little…what's the word…_suicidal?"_

"It's the only intel we have," Vance stated.

"Then let me gather my own intel, do my own threat assessment," Tony stressed.

"There's no time – you leave in a few hours and will use the intel that we have," the Director seethed.

"And this doesn't smell like a trap to you, Director?" Tony asked his eyes hard and intense.

"This _smells_ like a direct order from the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence," Vance hissed. "If you'd prefer to sit this one out, DiNozzo, I'll find someone else to go with McGee."

Tony's eyes narrowed and his facial features hardened. "That won't be necessary. McGee is my partner – I'll watch his back."

"The blueprints and schematics of Khalil's house and specifications of the security system are in those folders. Take them to MTAC, study them and return them to Brady. That is the only copy," Vance told them. "With Khalil away and the house remote and vacant, we don't expect any complications. However, you'll find the details of a nearby safe house should it be required."

Brady ignored the snort from Tony and continued. "You'll leave your identification, cells and weapons here. We have clean sat phones and weapons for you."

"Wait a minute," Tony interrupted, "if you're not expecting any trouble, why the clean sat phone and weapons?"

Brady looked impatiently at the Director before turning back to Tony. "Agent DiNozzo, these are your orders. Accept them or step aside and allow the operation to continue without you."

Tony's gut twisted at the thought of someone else watching McGee's back and he knew he had no choice. He stepped into Brady's personal space and enjoyed watching the man squirm a little. "We'll take your sat phones but we'll use our own weapons," he insisted.

Brady opened his mouth to object when Tony addressed Vance.

"Director, if things go according to plan, there's no issue. But if things go downhill fast I don't want to be using weapons we've never even fired before."

McGee knew that Tony's objection was for his benefit. Tony's fifteen years in law enforcement had seen him become an exceptional exponent of small arms and handguns, someone who could quickly and easily adapt to any weapon in any situation. Since becoming a Federal Agent, McGee had only used the Sig Sauers and whilst he was no mug shot, Tony wanted to ensure that McGee was comfortable and familiar with his weapon should he need to use it.

Vance considered for a moment before nodding. "Take your own weapons," he said, waving his hand to silence Brady. "You have three hours. Sign out whatever equipment you think you'll need. You'll meet back in MTAC to go over and memorise the plans and blueprints. Last minute instructions will be at 18:30 before a transport collects you at 19:00."

"Thank you, Sir," McGee and Tony replied together as they stood to leave.

Tony walked towards Jason Brady and eyed him menacingly from head to toe.

"Nice suit," he said, before he and McGee left the office.

Brady looked at Vance with concern. "I don't like it. This operation hasn't even started and he's causing trouble already. I want him replaced."

"DiNozzo's cocky with a side order of wise-ass but he's a good agent," Vance replied. "He'll get the job done."

"You better be certain of that, Director – for your sake and the sake of thousands of innocent Americans."

As Tony and McGee descended the stairs to the bullpen, their emotions couldn't have been more different. McGee was elated and proud to have been assigned such an important operation and to have the opportunity to show that he was more than a computer specialist. Tony felt apprehensive and cautious as his own version of Gibbs' famous gut told him that this operation was a very bad idea.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

_A/N: Many thanks to Susan for her assistance with the Spanish!_


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N:- Thank you for your continued support, reviews, alerts and PM's, L**

Tony and McGee sat at their respective desks. "If you have anyone to call, Probie, do it now. You have 10 minutes. Remember – don't give them any details and tell them you'll be away for another week."

"A week?" McGee replied. "The Director said we'd be home by 0300 tomorrow!"

"It's easier to tell people that the case wrapped up early than to explain why you didn't come home as scheduled. When you're finished, grab your gear and meet me downstairs in the armoury."

McGee nodded his head and quickly phoned his parents and then his sister to offer his apologies for missing tonight's family dinner. He then phoned his neighbour who was collecting his mail and taking care of his dog, Jethro while he was away. He noted with a small twang of guilt, that Tony didn't call anyone.

He met up with Tony in the armoury a few moments later. Tony had already signed out the equipment he thought they would need for the operation including an M-40A3 Marine sniper rifle with a night scope and 2 spare magazines, plus 4 additional clips for their Sigs and another 4 clips for the smaller calibre handguns they wore in their ankle holsters.

"Make sure you're carrying your spare," Tony was all business as he took McGee's backpack and emptied the contents on the table.

"Hey, what are you, my mother??" McGee objected. "I can pack my own bag you know, Tony, I'm not completely clueless about these things."

Tony offered no reply and no apology as he started to re-pack McGee's backpack with a first aid field kit, a flashlight, thermal blanket, an extra pair of handcuffs, a water bottle, several energy bars, a pair of night vision goggles and the additional ammunition. His own backpack contained identical items plus the magazines for the rifle.

"Come on, Tony, lighten up. You really think we'll need all that?" McGee asked.

Tony's body stiffened, not so much at the question but at the casual tone of McGee's voice.

"Make sure there's enough room for any equipment you may need to shut down the security system and gain entry to the house. I'll have the same in case we get separated," he answered abruptly. "And grab something warm to wear, it will be cold."

"Okay, that's it...you really need to know that your Gibbs impersonation is worse than your Tommy Lee Jones," McGee said and then groaned with the weight of the backpack as he lifted it to one shoulder. "You don't think you're overreacting just a little with all this stuff? The whole operation is only supposed to take 8 hours there and back."

Tony lifted his head sharply and looked at his partner. "Tell me again, McGee, how many of these operations have you been on?"

McGee dropped his gaze to his shoes as Tony continued.

"You may think this is some big adventure but I don't like it. I don't like the source of the intel, I don't like not having any back up and I sure as hell don't like the thought that this whole operation is going down without Gibbs being here," Tony hissed. "So, I'll pack your kit, check your weapons, impersonate Gibbs and head-slap you there and back if it keeps you safe and gets us back here in one piece."

McGee couldn't deny it; he _was_ excited. This was something he'd dreamed about doing since before he became a federal agent. He felt he had worked hard and deserved the opportunity it presented. Even though he knew it was his computer skills that secured the assignment more so than his ability as a field agent, he welcomed the chance to prove himself to his colleagues and his superiors.

"Look, Tony, I appreciate that you think you need to look out for me," McGee said, trying to sound calmer and more confident than he felt, "but I think you're reading too much into this. It's a remote and vacant property. We disarm the security system, get inside, decrypt the information and send it to the secure email address at the DOD, and then we get out and come home. I'm ready for this and I couldn't have asked for an easier first up assignment."

Tony's eyes were unreadable as he looked at his younger partner.

"DiNozzo's rule number 4 – there's no such thing as an easy assignment." Sighing, he checked his watch, picked up his backpack and the rifle. "We're needed in MTAC, let's go," he said.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

NCIS Special Agent Christopher Neville was the most skittish federal agent Gibbs and Ziva had ever met. Tall and beanpole slim, the redheaded agent was so edgy and flustered that even McGee in his nervous probational year looked calm and composed in comparison.

Neville was TAD at Parris Island and had only arrived last evening when the usual NCIS agent, Mike Holden, was granted urgent leave. Beads of sweat glistened on Neville's upper lip and he squirmed under the intense blue-eyed gaze of the silver-haired agent who was currently standing nose to nose and speaking in a low and threatening tone.

"Let me get this straight, Neville," Gibbs said. "After spending three long days investigating a murder case at Camp Lejeune, we get a message from the Director telling us to get to Parris Island to assist a fellow NCIS agent – you – with the interrogation of a suspect."

"Yes, Sir, Agent Gibbs," Neville answered tentatively. "That's right, Sir."

"Don't call me sir," Gibbs snapped, stepping back and pacing in front of the young agent. His eyes flicked quickly to Ziva, who was leaning casually against the wall of the office, barely hiding her mirth as she enjoyed watching Neville's discomfort.

Turning his attention back to Neville, Gibbs growled. "We were told that your suspect, Serkan Toros, spoke little English. Then, after a three hour drive, we arrive here to find that Toros was born and raised in Great Falls, Montana!!"

"Um...Agent Gibbs…in my defence, I was asked by…by Special Agent McGee, whether Toros had spoken any English," Neville stammered. "I replied that he had said a few words and that…that was true…he _had_ only said a few words."

"But you failed to tell Special Agent McGee that Toros had _chosen_ to only say a few words," Ziva added. "You did not tell him that Toros is an American citizen who, despite his Turkish name, does not speak a word of Turkish."

"I hadn't ascertained that information yet!!" Neville replied anxiously as Gibbs pinned him with a look that could kill. "I saw his name and assumed that…"

"A good agent never assumes," Gibbs growled.

Looking timidly in Gibbs' direction the young man added, "I appreciate your help in getting Toros to confess, Agent Gibbs. I guess he didn't find me very intimidating."

"Ya think?" Gibbs replied.

"Um…you'll be needing somewhere to stay for the night," Neville pointed to a closed door on the far side of the office. "Help yourself to some coffee in the meal room and I'll arrange your accommodation."

As Gibbs and Ziva entered the small room the aroma of freshly brewed coffee immediately drew Gibbs' attention and he helped himself to a cup. He was pleasantly surprised by the rich Jamaican blend and his mood improved - marginally. Gibbs had just poured his third cup of coffee when the door flew open in a flurry of movement.

"Agent Gibbs!" Neville said, bursting into the lounge area. "Sir… the Parris Island commanding officer, Brigadier General Knowles is meeting attending a conference with SecNav tomorrow in Washington. SecNav sent his Gulf Stream to collect him this evening." Neville said. "He's coming back tomorrow afternoon and that's when you and Officer David were supposed to fly back to Washington."

Gibbs and Ziva exchanged confused looks.

"Your point, Neville?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh, I made a few calls. The flight is leaving in 10 minutes and the General said that you're welcome to fly back with him tonight, if you'd like."

Gibbs finished the rest of his coffee in two scalding swallows. "Damn straight, we'd like," he said as he and Ziva picked up their backpacks.

"I kinda figured you'd be anxious to leave. A driver will be here, momentarily, to collect you from the front of the building," Neville said. "Once again, Agent Gibbs, I appreciate your help and it's was a pleasure meet….."

Gibbs and Ziva were already out the door, leaving Neville shaking his head and wondering if he should have joined the family plumbing business after all. The door swung open again and Gibbs' head appeared. "Neville, good job on the transport, …and the coffee," he said closing the door and the young man grinned with pride.

--**oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Tony and McGee carefully reviewed and memorised the schematics and blueprints of Khalil's property and security system for almost two hours in an eerily quiet and dimly lit MTAC. Even though the MTAC Control Officer and his team of 4 technicians had top-secret clearance, the agents seated themselves as far away from them as possible so they could concentrate without distraction.

They committed the layout of the surrounding area to memory, noting that the property was bordered on one side by a heavily wooded forest area with a disused ranger's cabin situated approximately 1 and a half miles east of Khalil's house. The persistent tightness in Tony's gut told him to look for any and every contingency.

Tony pointed to the plans of the safe house. "Have you memorised these, Probie?" Tony asked.

"I've already looked at them, Tony, anyway, we probably won't even go there," McGee replied.

"Where are the external doors?" Tony asked sharply.

McGee signed loudly, wondering why Tony was being such a hard-ass.

"Front door is positioned in the centre of the building and leads directly into the living room. Back door is in the kitchen and is situated 10 feet from the eastern side of the house and approximately 40 feet from the stand alone garage," his monotone reply signalled his exasperation.

"How many windows?"

"Tony! I don't see why we…"

"How many windows, McGee?" Tony asked more forcefully.

"Eight!" McGee answered angrily.

Tony picked up the plans and shoved them back at McGee. "There are nine. Check them again and do it properly this time," he said returning his own attention to the diagram of Khalil's security system and trying to devise the most effective and time efficient method of disarming it.

Several more minutes passed before Tony spoke again. "How long do you think you'll need to forward this email?"

"Depends on the security protocol and the encryption used but I would think it would take a couple of hours," McGee replied.

Tony baulked. "To send an email!! Even Gibbs can send an email faster than that!!"

"As a security precaution to protect the information contained in the email, they attached a program designed to allow the email to be forwarded only when it has been decrypted," McGee replied. "I have several decryption programs I can run but no way of knowing which one will work."

Tony nodded his head, not happy at the prospect of spending so much time in the house.

The door to MTAC opened and Director Vance entered, followed by Jason Brady.

"It's almost time," Vance said. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir," Tony and McGee answered simultaneously.

"You'll need these," Vance said, handing a sat phone to Tony and one to McGee.

"They're clean and speed dial 1 will get Brady. You are to keep complete radio, or in this case, phone silence unless in dire need of assistance."

Brady looked at both agents. "You should know that speed dial 1, is the only number these sat phones will accept. Due to the highly classified nature of this operation, you have no need to make contact with anyone else and any attempt to do so, will have serious ramifications."

He ignored Tony's humourless laugh. "So, no calling Pizza Hut to order some take out?"

Before Brady could respond, 3 loud beeps sounded from McGee's backpack.

"Agent McGee?" the Director asked. "Do you have a cell phone in there?"

"No, Sir," McGee replied anxiously digging in his bag for the errant device and inadvertently knocking the backpack from the table, spilling the contents.

"Damn," he muttered, trying to conceal his nervous energy. Brady assisted him to collect the items from the floor and they placed them randomly into the backpack. He located the PDA and held it out to show the Director.

"It's my new PDA but don't worry, I've already disabled the phone, SMS and GPS capabilities."

"You removed the chips?" Vance asked.

"Yes, Sir," McGee said.

Vance took the PDA from McGee's grasp and looked at it appraisingly. "This is the new Addison 345XL. Been thinking of getting one of these myself."

"You won't be sorry, Sir," McGee enthused.

"What was that beeping for?" Brady asked.

"Well...er...it's just a reminder, Sir, I have an appointment with…er…a dermatologist tomorrow," McGee stuttered nervously. "You see, I have dry skin and… never mind, I can reschedule."

McGee grimaced as he recognised the look on Tony's face that promised unmerciful teasing at a later time.

"There'll be a car here to collect you from the loading area at the back of the building in 5 minutes," Director Vance told them. "You'll be taken to a private airfield where you'll board a Navy supply chopper. There'll be a 90-minute flight to another small airfield in Virginia. A black SUV will be parked there waiting for you. The registration number is on the key ring."

The Director handed the key ring to Tony, who nodded.

"It will take another 30 minutes to drive to Khalil's property by which time you will arrive under the cover of darkness," Brady said. "Get in, do what you have to do and get out."

"Once you leave Khalil's property, head back to the airfield. The Navy chopper has orders to wait until 0200," Vance continued. "If you don't make it back by then, the chopper will leave and you will have to find your own way back."

"Remember, if you have any trouble, head for the safe house," Brady added. "Are there any questions?"

"None that we'll get a straight answer to," Tony replied brusquely.

"McGee?" Vance asked.

"No, Sir, no questions," McGee replied.

"The car will be waiting out back. You know what to do and you know what's at stake here. Good luck," Vance said.

"Thank you, Sir," McGee replied as he and Tony gathered their things and left MTAC.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Ziva leaned back into the luxurious leather seats of SecNav's Gulf Stream. She smiled deviously to herself as she imagined Tony's envy and displeasure that she was enjoying this flight in his stead. She made sure to snaffle a packet of complimentary roasted peanuts and M&M's, both displaying SecNav's official seal. She would give them to Tony and playfully twist the knife a little more.

While Gibbs spoke quietly with Brigadier General Knowles, Ziva tried to contact Tony and McGee to arrange a lift from the airfield at Anacostia Naval Station back to the Navy yard. She frowned as, once again, Tony's cell diverted to voicemail and a recorded voice advised that McGee's phone was disconnected or switched off. She wondered whether her partners had taken advantage of Gibbs' absence to have an early night. She chuckled, '_They are in for a surprise!' _

She dialled another number on the in-flight phone and Abby squealed with delight at the news that Gibbs and Ziva would soon be back. When Ziva asked whether Abby would have time to collect them from Anacostia, she was met with another euphoric peal. The call was disconnected and Abby was on her way before Ziva thought to ask the whereabouts of her missing colleagues.

Twenty minutes later, the plane had landed and Gibbs was pacing like a caged lion as he and Ziva waited at the pick-up area for Abby to arrive.

"Well??" Gibbs said, his expression and his tone clearly communicated his irritation.

Ziva closed her cell phone and looked apprehensively at Gibbs.

"Still diverting to voicemail," she replied. "Perhaps they have already been assigned a new case, yes? Or…maybe they have gone home to rest, it is nearly 2000."

"Rule number 3," Gibbs growled.

"Never be unreachable," Ziva muttered.

A car horn sounded, heralding the arrival of Abby's fire engine red 1931 Ford Model A Coupe. Abby parked the car and met Gibbs and Ziva with a bone-crushing hug. They stowed their bags in the rumble seat and climbed aboard, Abby chatting incessantly about how much she missed them.

"Abs, you see DiNozzo and McGee today?" Gibbs asked when Abby finally took a breath.

"Yes I did, I saw them earlier," Abby replied.

"About?"

"About the Fillet-o-'Fish," Abby replied. "See, McGee didn't check their order before they left the drive-thru and Tony got the Fillet-o-'Fish. Only, Tony didn't order the Fillet-o-'Fish 'cause he doesn't like them but McGee didn't know that and he offered to give Tony his McFeast but he had already taken two bites and Tony went, like, totally postal and gave his Fillet-o-'Fish to me, which was good for me but not for Tony 'cause then he had no lunch."

"Abby! I meant _about_ what time did you see them?" Gibbs clarified.

"Oh…of course," Abby said. "Um…about 1300. They were gone when I came upstairs to see them again."

"About?" Gibbs asked again.

"Well, after I'd eaten the Fillet-o'-Fish, I remembered that I packed my lunch today," Abby told them. "So, I was taking my egg salad sandwich to Tony because he hadn't had lunch and we all know how cranky he gets if he doesn't eat."

"Abs! I meant _about_ what time did you go back upstairs?"

"Oh…right…I don't know why I keep doing that," she said sheepishly. "It was about 1430. Wherever they went, it must have been important 'cause they didn't even say goodbye."

Gibbs felt a tightening of his famous gut. Something was definitely wrong and if his agents were involved, he would stop at nothing to find out what it was.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Their journey on the Navy supply chopper was noisy and draughty as they headed for a private airfield in Virginia. As it was too noisy to speak without the headsets, both agents spent the time mentally preparing for the assignment.

McGee thought of the countless number of times he had seen DiNozzo prepare for an undercover operation or an important assignment. Tony loved undercover work and always appeared so eager, relaxed and confident. McGee had been trying to emulate Tony's confidence, not wanting his Senior Field Agent to know how nervous and edgy he was actually feeling.

Tony was unusually tense and introspective as he psyched himself up for the task at hand. He felt the heavy burden of McGee's safety weighing on his mind. He knew McGee was a good agent who would do his best in any situation but he was unaccustomed to this sort of operation and didn't know how quickly things could go to hell. Tony was ill at ease with the intel and the fact that they had no back-up. He was used to Gibbs watching his six and felt particularly exposed and vulnerable. He wanted this thing to be over – he needed to get them both home safely.

On landing, they climbed from the chopper and found their SUV waiting for them just off the tarmac. Stowing their gear in the back they climbed in for the drive to Khalil's property.

"Well, Probie…as Acting Lead Agent it falls to me to say something inspiring and motivational on the occasion of your first big assignment," Tony said.

After a long and awkward moment of silence, McGee said. "Well?"

"Nope….I got nothin'," Tony answered while starting the engine of the SUV. " Come on, McGoo, let's get this done and go home."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

_Overwhelmed by the support for this story - thank you all, L_

**Chapter Four**

Tony and McGee arrived at Khalil's property and parked the SUV behind a small cluster of trees, approximately 50 meters from the entrance to the long driveway. The land surrounding the house was quite vast with at least 5 miles to either of the neighbouring properties, ensuring privacy. The south side of the house bordered a heavily forested area. The house itself was nondescript – presumably to blend in with surrounding properties.

Dressed in black jeans and black sweaters, they grabbed their backpacks and the rifle from the back seat of the vehicle. McGee placed his ball cap on his head and Tony removed a black knitted 'watch cap' from his pocket. Their breath was visible in the cold night air.

"You ready?" Tony asked while adjusting the fit of the knitted cap. Seeing McGee's nodded reply he added. "Okay, Probie, stay sharp – let's do this."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs, Ziva and Abby exited the elevator and walked into the bullpen, placing their overnight bags behind their desks.

"Ziva!" Gibbs called.

"Keep trying to reach them on their cell and home phones," she pre-empted.

"I'll be with the Director," Gibbs said over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs two at a time.

It was nearing 2100 and as a general rule, Vance endeavoured to leave the office each night in time to have dinner with his young family. Gibbs' suspicion was confirmed when he saw the light shining through the crack under the door to the Director's office. He knocked on the door and entered without waiting to be asked.

"Working late, Director?" Gibbs asked.

Vance looked up from his paper work and steeled his expression to hide his surprise and frustration.

"Gibbs, back so soon? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow night."

"Case wrapped up early and we caught an early ride," Gibbs replied. "I was wondering about the whereabouts of the rest of my team?"

For a fleeting moment, Vance thought about denying all knowledge but then thought better of it.

"They're on a special assignment," he replied. "They'll be back tomorrow."

"Special assignment for who?" Gibbs asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"It's a 'need to know' assignment, Gibbs. You don't need to know," Vance stated.

"We're talking about my team, Director! Believe me, I need to know!"

Vance stood up from his desk, his eyes flashing with anger but his voice was laced with an edginess that Gibbs hadn't heard before.

"You of all people know that's not how it works. I have my orders! This is a routine operation, nothing to be concerned about. DiNozzo and McGee are expected back by 0330. There's nothing more I can tell you."

"Routine…nothing to be concerned about?" Gibbs repeated as he searched Vance's thunderous expression for any sign of a lie. "If you weren't concerned, Leon, you wouldn't still be here at 2100?"

Vance indicated his desk with the sweep of his hand. "Paperwork, Jethro, you think this agency runs itself?"

Gibbs turned to leave, realising he was not going to get any answers. He opened the door and turned to face the Director.

"You wouldn't have sent me to that half-assed interrogation at Parris Island, to get me out of the way, would you, Leon?"

They held each other's gaze for an uncomfortable moment before Vance replied coldly. "You're done for the night. Go home, Gibbs."

"I'll be downstairs," Gibbs answered defiantly. "Oh and Leon? You and I both know that there's no such thing as a routine assignment."

As Gibbs closed the door firmly behind him, Director Vance rubbed a hand over the beginning of stubble on his chin and exhaled deeply as he reached for his phone.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Tony and McGee made their way quickly across the lawn to the east side of the house, easily locating the fuse box. Tony deftly picked the lock and opened the lid, exposing the power board and circuitry for the house. He isolated the power source of the security system and extracted two alligator clips from his backpack to temporarily cut power to the alarm. Repositioning the lid, they confirmed their intel that all windows were barred and made their way to the front door.

A security screen door with stainless steel mesh and grill protected the large front door. The 5-pin cylinder lock posed a minor challenge but with his trusty lock pick in hand and a glib "Pay attention, Grasshopper," Tony had it opened in very little time. Both agents exhaled and stared at their next challenge – a combination cyber lock secured the front door.

"Over to you, Probie. I'm gonna check the perimeter," Tony said as McGee moved closer to get a better look at the lock.

Tony grabbed the night vision goggles from his backpack and quickly and cautiously circumnavigated the house, carefully scanning for any sign of un-friendlies. He returned to find McGee still working on the lock.

"This reminds me of the 1999 movie Entrapment," Tony whispered. "You know, the master thief, using his cunning and guile to break into properties and steal exotic works of art." Immediately he broke into his best Connery impression as he quoted from the movie – "It's impossible, but do-able."

"It goes without saying that I'd be Sean Connery," Tony continued. "That makes you Catherine Zeta-Jones."

McGee threw Tony an exasperated look but remained silent and continued to work on the lock.

"Take your time, Probie…there's noooo hurry…anytime now…you can do this …just rela-"

"Tony!!" McGee hissed. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Keep your pants on, Catherine!" Tony replied. "Our collective buttocks are a little exposed out here…I'm a little jittery…a trifle taut….a tad on edge…a bit skittish…"

"Tony, please!!" McGee hissed.

"There's a side to you that comes to the fore at times like this, Probie, and it's not a very pretty side."

Tony continued to scan the area around the house and, moments later, was relieved to hear the click of the door opening and McGee's satisfied "Yes!"

Flicking his flashlight on and moving to take the lead into the house, Tony clapped a hand on McGee's shoulder.

"Nice work, Genius Boy, never doubted you for a minute."

Moving quickly and stealthily through the house, the agents cleared each room and the small basement before returning to the den where Khalil's computer was situated. McGee switched the computer on and grimaced when it immediately requested a password.

"I'll have to run a "code breaker" program before I can access the emails. This is gonna take some time," he said.

While McGee started the program to break Khalil's password, Tony looked around the interior of the house. He noted that the décor definitely reflected Khalil's upbringing in Pakistan and India. The rugs, wall hangings, furniture and statues all bore a distinct sub-continental flavour.

Tony slowly turned 360 degrees, scrutinizing the walls and furnishings and locating at least 6 lipstick cameras covering all angles of the living room and the den.

"The closed circuit cameras shut down when we disabled the alarm, right, Probie?" he asked.

"According to the schematics we were given, why?"

He walked closer to one of the cameras, eyeing it warily and waving his hand in front of it.

"I don't know, it just feels like we're being watched," Tony replied feeling a shiver run down his back. "There's a lot cameras around this place, inside and outside."

"Will you relax?" McGee complained. "As soon as I decrypt and forward this email, we're back in the car and on our way home – nothing to it."

Joining McGee in the den, Tony's gaze fell upon a huge bookcase and he removed a large book from the shelf. Although he couldn't read the words, the photos of various types of shoulder mounted rocket launchers; surface to air missiles, grenades and other assault weapons sent shivers up his spine.

"Hey, be careful." McGee warned. "We're not supposed to leave any sign that we were here, remember?"

Tony re-shelved the book and seeing a large DVD collection, wandered over to view the titles. Typically, most were Bollywood movies and Tony's eyes widened when he saw a familiar title. Taking the cover from the shelf, he flashed a smile at McGee.

"Kuch Kuch Hota Hai – I wonder if this one has subtitles?" he said, unsuccessfully attempting to read the non-English wording on the cover.

"Khalil is Pakistani and spent many years in India, so my guess is he wouldn't need subtitles." McGee replied. "Anyway, since when have you liked Bollywood movies?"

"Since I found out that they're extremely babe-heavy. This one's a personal favourite," Tony said. "I watched it with Ziva a few years back but our copy didn't have sub-titles, it was a little hard to follow." He sighed wistfully and replaced the DVD as the computer gave a small beep.

"I've got the password!" McGee informed him.

"Great, Probie! How long to decrypt this thing and forward the email?"

"There are several programs I need to run," McGee explained. "If we get lucky, it could be as quick as 30 minutes."

"And if we're not?"

"Two to four hours," he said with a grimace.

"Get to it, Probie, that Navy chopper leaves at 0200 and we need to be on it. I'll be outside checking the perimeter."

Tony walked outside and donned the night vision goggles as he scanned the area around the house. He detected no movement but couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that they were being watched.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Deep within the Pentagon, the Under Secretary entered a small, secured room similar to MTAC with sophisticated communications equipment and a large plasma screen. He took a seat beside Brady.

"What did I miss?" he asked.

"Nothing yet, Sir," Brady replied. "The agents have disarmed the security system and entered the building. They are now attempting to decrypt the email and are keeping up regular perimeter checks."

"They don't suspect they're being watched?"

"No, Sir, they believe that all the surveillance systems have been disabled when, in fact, our cameras are set to take a still shot every 90 seconds. This will enable us to identify everyone involved and shut this terrorist cell down before it becomes a threat to national security."

"The President will be pleased," the Under Secretary said. "You're certain that these agents can handle any incursion?"

"Yes, Sir, our intel confirmed that this cell is still in its infancy – four or five radical college kids with no weapons, combat or explosives training," Brady said. "That's why Khalil went to Afghanistan, he was on a recruiting mission to bolster the number and level of expertise within the cell."

"Still, five armed radicals against only two agents…" the Under Secretary frowned.

"Two highly trained and seasoned federal agents, Sir," Brady emphasised. "Judging from the arsenal they took with them, they should have no problem dealing with a few kids."

"You're sure the correct information was leaked?" the Under Secretary asked.

"Positive, Sir. They'll come, – it's just a matter of time.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs returned to the bullpen where he found Ducky had joined Ziva and Abby.

"Welcome back, Jethro!" the affable ME said. "Abigail and Ziva were just telling me that you seem to have misplaced two of your underlings. Well, I sympathise of course, I can't tell you how many times I've misplaced Mr Palmer. Although, in my defence the lad has the most dreadful navigational skills and has always had a propensity for getting lost. I remember one time…"

"Ducky…Duck!" Gibbs said. "I didn't lose them."

"You found them? I knew you would, where are they?" Abby said excitedly. "Why did they leave without saying goodbye?"

"I haven't found them, Abs. Someone borrowed them without asking," Gibbs replied. "I need you to run a trace of their cells, use Tony's computer. Ziva, check the records of Special Agent Mike Holden."

"The NCIS agent assigned to Parris Island?" Ziva asked with surprise.

"Find out why he took emergency leave."

"Gibbs, what has happened? Are Tony and McGee okay?" Ziva asked.

"That's what we're gonna find out," Gibbs said. "If I'm right, the Director went to a lot of trouble to get me out of the way so he could engage members of my team in some covert operation."

"Why go to all that trouble, Jethro?" Ducky asked. "He does out rank you after all. He doesn't need your consent."

"No, but if he wanted me out of the way then he expected me to strongly oppose whatever it is he's got DiNozzo and McGee into," Gibbs told them. "We're gonna find out what that is."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

It had been almost an hour since Tony had gone outside to check the perimeter of the property and McGee was becoming more and more agitated. He heard the slight creaking of the back door and immediately got to his feet and pressed himself against the wall next to the door of the den. The sound of footsteps got progressively louder as they approached and he removed his Sig from its holster and readied himself for any possibility. As the dark figure rounded the corner and walked into the room, McGee grabbed him from behind in a chokehold and pressed his Sig firmly against his spine.

"Don't move," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Probie, it's me!" Tony gasped.

McGee simultaneously released Tony and the breath he'd been holding. "Where the hell have you been?"

"I told you, I was checking the perimeter!"

"That was 55 minutes ago! I thought something had happened to you!"

"Something did happen to me, I nearly got shot by my own partner!" Tony countered as both men slumped onto the couch to regain their breath and composure.

McGee's eyes narrowed as he noticed the rosy colour of Tony's cheeks and nose. "You sure you're okay? What took so long?"

"I'm fine but it's freezing out there," Tony answered, removing his gloves and blowing warm air onto his cold fingers. "The wind is causing a lot of movement in the trees to the south of the property. I had to check it out, make sure there were no uninvited guests. It's kinda hard to tell but it looks clear."

McGee turned his attention back to the computer as Tony climbed to his feet. "How's the decryption coming?" Tony asked.

"Slowly. Could be at least another few hours yet," McGee replied.

"Arghh! Come on, Probie, I'm starvin' like Lee Marvin. You may recall that one of us missed lunch!" he said throwing an accusatory look in McGee's direction.

"Then have an energy bar, you packed plenty."

Tony reached into his backpack for an energy bar as McGee's PDA sounded it's familiar beeping alert.

"You didn't turn that thing off?" Tony asked furiously. "What if that had sounded while we were trying to hide from someone? You could have got us killed!"

"God, Tony I'm sorry," McGee said contritely. "I meant to turn it to silent earlier and it completely slipped my mind."

Tony glared angrily at McGee. '_That was a rookie mistake,_' he thought before suddenly realising that, in this kind of operation, McGee _was_ a rookie and his anger quickly transformed back to calm resignation.

"No harm, no foul," Tony said. "Just turn it off now. By the way, Probie, that was a nice move behind the door. Those extra training sessions with Ziva are paying off…remind me never to get on your bad side."

"That's not always avoidable, Tony," McGee muttered under his breath.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

"Abs, what have you got?" Gibbs asked as he strode back into the bullpen and saw Abby still seated at Tony's desk.

"I traced the GPS in Tony and McGee's cells. There is no signal for McGee's but Tony's indicated that he, or rather it, was still right here in the building. On a hunch, I opened Tony's desk drawer and found this." She worried her lower lip with her teeth as she held up Tony's cell phone. "Then I checked McGee's drawer and found these." She held out her hand and revealed 3 small chips. "My guess is that McGee took his new PDA with him but he removed the chips to disable the phone, SMS and GPS capabilities."

"Why would he do that?" Ziva asked. "Would it not be easier just to leave the PDA in his desk?"

"Not for McGee!" Abby replied. "He's, like, totally infatuated by that thing. It's like his new baby! McGee and his PDA are like Tony and his car, Gibbs and his boat, David Caruso and his sunglasses…or, or…"

"We get it, Abs," Gibbs shook his head to clear the confusion. "Ziva, tell me you got something."

"I contacted Special Agent Mike Holden at his home in Beaufort, South Carolina," Ziva reported. "He told me that he did not request emergency leave, he was in fact ordered to take a week of annual leave. He does not know why but the order came in the middle of a case and was effective immediately. The order came from Director Vance's office. It seems you were right, Gibbs, the Director went to a lot of trouble to get you out of the way."

"I just came from the armoury," Gibbs said. "Tony signed out a sniper rifle with a night scope and lots of spare ammo for the rifle and their hand guns."

"That could be just precautionary Gibbs," Ziva tried to reassure him. "It does not mean they expect to use them."

"I checked the security tapes of the front entrance to the building but there's no sign of Tony or McGee leaving," Abby said. "They didn't sign out a vehicle from the car pool and their own cars are still parked downstairs. I'm still reviewing tapes for the car park."

"That won't help," Jimmy Palmer said as he approached the team from the elevator. "I just heard you were looking for Tony and McGee."

"You know something, Palmer?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, Sir…I mean Agent Gibbs. I was assisting with the transfer of a body to a funeral home and I saw Tony and McGee leave through the loading bay area," he said. "They were both dressed in black and Tony was carrying a rifle."

"What time was that?" Gibbs asked brusquely.

"About 7-00pm…er…1900." Jimmy replied.

"What were they driving?"

"Oh…they weren't driving. There was someone waiting for them in a dark SUV. They got in with some other man who was wearing a suit and they drove away," Jimmy advised.

"Good job, Palmer," Gibbs said. "Abs!"

"Accessing the tapes from the loading bay," Abby said anticipating the order.

Within moments they had all gathered in front of a large plasma screen as Abby reviewed the security footage of the loading bay area. They watched as Jimmy assisted funeral home staff to collect the body of Petty Officer Hale and transfer him to their hearse for transportation.

Then, just as Jimmy had described, Tony and McGee exited the building, both dressed in black, both carrying a backpack and Tony was also carrying a rifle. On their heels was a young man in an expensive suit. As they climbed into the waiting SUV, Abby hit the freeze frame while Ziva jotted down the partially visible registration plate. Abby allowed the tape to run and stopped it again on the face of the man in the suit, printing copies for Ziva and Gibbs.

"Ziva!" Gibbs called.

"Run the partial plate through DMV. I am on it Gibbs," Ziva replied.

"Abby!"

"I'm going back to my lab to run a facial recognition."

Gibbs looked at the nameless face intently. He knew that once they had identified this man, they were a big step closer to finding his agents.

**--oo00oo—oo0oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Tony's gut was still protesting loudly and he knew it wasn't due to skipping lunch and dinner. Unable to sit and wait for McGee to complete the decryption of the email, he completed perimeter checks every 20 minutes, each time returning to the house chilled to the bone and wind swept.

"Why don't I take the next check, Tony?" McGee offered, realising he could hear Tony's teeth chattering.

"Thanks, Probie, but I'd rather you concentrate on that email. I want to get out of here. I've got a bad feeling about this."

McGee nodded and walked back into the den to check the decryption program he was running. He had to admit, he was starting to feel a little uneasy about this place, too. Each time Tony went outside to look around, McGee found himself, Sig in hand and watching his every move from the door or window. Though he would never admit it out loud, Tony's presence provided comfort and security.

Tony was almost ready to go back outside for another patrol of the premises when he caught movement from the road. A black panelled van with its headlights switched off, had stopped at the entrance to the driveway. Tony's gut clenched painfully as he watched through the night vision goggles as six men, all armed, climbed from the van.

"We're out of time, Probie. We've got company."

McGee felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as Tony's warning sounded and he realised he was no where near ready.

Tony watched as the six men spread out across the sizeable width of the property's frontage and made their way toward the house in a crouched run, using the many trees and a large hedge as cover. '_This is so not good._' He thought.

A heavily accented, sub-continental voice rang out from behind the hedge. "You in the house. Throw your weapons down and come out with your hands up or we will shoot."

Tony tapped the barrel of the rifle against the window, hard enough to break the glass. Lining up a shot through the night scope at this distance would be difficult enough, but they were heavily outnumbered and he couldn't afford for the glass to interfere with the trajectory.

The men slowly approached the house and Tony was somewhat relieved that, for the moment, they had elected to improve their positions one at a time. Had they all rushed forward at one time, he would have little chance of holding them off.

"How's it coming, Probie!" Tony's voice was calm and clear.

"Tony, I'm gonna need at least another hour to by-pass the site's security protocol and encryption program and extract the data we need."

Tony took careful aim and fired as one intruder tried to make a break around the eastern side of the house. The man cried out briefly and stilled forever as Tony's shot ripped through his chest.

"I can hold these guys off for maybe 5 minutes. That's all the time you get."

"Tony!! That's impossible!! I can't possibly…."

The window disintegrated as a round of bullets shattered the glass and lodged in the wall a foot above McGee's head, showering him with plaster and paint particles.

"Five minutes…more than enough time!!" McGee muttered himself.

Tony was crouched low, moving from window to window in an effort to improve his line of fire on the ever-moving targets. His heart leapt into his mouth as he noticed another dark figure making good ground towards the western side of the house. He was well aware that if one or more of these men made it to the back of the house, they would be surrounded and their escape route into the forest would be cut off. Aiming carefully, Tony took him down with a shot to the head.

A cacophony of gunfire and shattering glass followed as the remaining gunmen fired repeatedly at the house.

"Probie, forget the decryption – pull the hard drive. NOW!"

"Already on it," McGee answered. Tony chanced a quick look and saw that he had already opened the tower and begun to unscrew the hard drive. McGee glanced nervously at Tony.

"You think Khalil will guess that someone's been here?" he quipped sarcastically.

"Yep, I'd say the cat's pretty much out of the bag on that one," Tony responded flicking his eyes to the destruction around him.

Tony turned his attention to the men outside as one of them broke cover and ran directly for the house, firing his machine pistol indiscriminately and causing the remaining windows to disintegrated and implode. He yelled maniacally in Urdu and although Tony didn't understand the words, he had seen the look of extreme fanaticism many times. His finger squeezed the trigger and he placed two rounds into the man's chest and shoulder. The man staggered and fell to his knees and Tony was shocked to see a look akin to serenity on the dying man's face.

Tony was transfixed on the man's expression and acutely aware of his own skin turning to gooseflesh as his stomach muscles lurched violently. He knew it was coming even before he'd seen the grenade appear from behind the man's back. He fired his rifle again, this time he struck the man in the temple and watched as he fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. Tony's world slowed almost to a stop, then moved forward seemingly frame-by-frame as he realised that, a second before the dying man had fallen; he had hurled a grenade towards the gaping window of the house.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N Ooh, that's a nasty cliffie, sorry about that - the good news that with daily updates, there's not too long to wait. L**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended. **

_A/N:- As always, thank you for your support of my story. Special thanks to those of you who review anonymously or are just happy to read along silently in the background - I can't thank you personally but I'm very grateful. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. L_

**Chapter 5 **

Although it was after midnight, Ducky and Palmer had stayed to keep the Goth forensic scientist company until they had news on Tony and McGee's whereabouts.

Gibbs entered the lab with a Caff-Pow in one hand and an ever-present coffee in the other. Nodding a greeting at the ME and his assistant, Gibbs baulked slightly at the sight of two upturned polishing mops wearing the faces of his missing agents.

"Whatcha got Abs?" he said.

"I'm still running the facial recognition program for Mr Slick in his two thousand dollar suit. I can't tell you who he is – yet - but I can tell you what he's not," Abby replied. "I can tell you he's not, nor has he ever been in the Armed Forces or Police Department and he does not have a criminal record. I'm running the DMV records now but that's gonna take a while."

"Jethro, Director Vance has already told you that Anthony and Timothy are expected back by 0330," Ducky said. "I'm not sure I understand why you are so determined to locate them when they are just as likely to be back before you get your answers?"

"Two reasons, Duck," Gibbs replied. "One - the Director went to a lot of trouble to keep me from finding out about what he called a routine assignment. Two – since when did a routine assignment require DiNozzo to check out half of our armoury? He's got them into something dangerous and I want to make sure someone's got their backs."

The glass sliding doors slid open as Ziva entered the lab.

"You have something?" Gibbs asked her.

"Agent Balboa has just returned from a crime scene. He said that Tony and McGee were called to the Director's office at about 1330. He does not know why. Later he saw them walk into MTAC at about 1430 and leave again at approximately 1845. They were dressed in black clothing and Tony was carrying a rifle," Ziva reported.

"Anything else?"

"Yes, Director Vance is still in his office. He appears to be waiting for their return."

"Routine assignment, my ass," Gibbs muttered as a high-pitched chiming sounded from behind him.

"Ooh, my baby's calling," Abby said, retrieving a photo from the printer of one of her computers. "I've been trying to enhance the photo of the partial licence plate of the SUV that came for Tony and McGee."

She looked at the photo and then worried her lower lip with her teeth. "You're not gonna like this Gibbs," she said. "The plates are registered to the US Government."

"Can we trace the department?" Gibbs asked Abby who was already typing into her computer.

"Department of Defence," she replied.

"Abs, narrow your facial recognition search to people who work at the Pentagon," Gibbs instructed.

"How many people work at the Pentagon?" Ziva asked.

"About 10 percent!" chirped Jimmy, grinning proudly at his own joke until he felt the unamused gazes of the others and his face flushed with colour. "I mean…er…about thirty thousand."

"Good Lord, Jethro, what on earth has the Director got these boys into?" Ducky asked.

"Don't know, Duck, but I intend to find out," Gibbs snarled striding purposefully out of the lab.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Moving before he even realised, Tony turned his back to the window, hurdled the couch and ran full-tilt at McGee who had just entered the living room with his Sig Sauer held in his favoured left hand.

_"Move, McGee, move, move!"_ Tony screamed shoving the younger man forcefully toward the back door.

Had the situation not been so dire, the scene would have been comical. McGee was totally stunned by Tony's urgent almost panicked warning, causing him to stumble and trip over the ottoman before falling heavily against the coffee table. Bouncing quickly to his feet but still unbalanced, he crashed into a bookshelf upsetting a stack of precariously piled books before Tony's hands once again made contact with him and threw him bodily towards the door.

The room behind them exploded in a flash of blinding light and a deafening roar, sending the agents tumbling down the back steps. Tony vaulted over the top of McGee and bounded to his feet in one rolling motion, his Sig ready in one hand and his spare handgun in the other. Crouched ready for action his eyes darted anxiously from one side of the house to the other, searching for signs of danger, his backpack and the rifle were slung around either shoulder.

"McGee," he hissed urgently. "Head for the woods. I'll cover you. Go!"

McGee climbed to his feet and staggered slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Quickly regaining his equilibrium, he ran as fast as he could for the cover of the trees, looking back to ensure Tony was following several yards behind. Reaching the tree line, they ran deeper into the woods; tripping and stumbling over exposed tree roots and fallen branches and feeling the thorns and brambles tearing at their clothes, hair and skin.

They ran for another few minutes before they stopped to get their bearings and to listen for sounds of pursuit. They leaned heavily against the rough bark of a large tree, their chests heaving and their breath visible in the frigid air. Even in the darkness, Tony could see a stream of blood flowing down the side of McGee's face.

"Probie? You okay?" he whispered, noting with relief that the head wound was a small superficial cut.

"Yeah," McGee replied. "It's nothing, I'm fine. What the heck was that, a flash bang?"

"No, a concussion grenade, we're lucky we got out in time or we'd both have huge headaches right now."

"For the record," McGee quipped, "I'd just like to say that I thought my reflexes back there were cat-like."

The image of McGee stumbling, tripping and crashing into the living room furniture flashed through Tony's mind and despite their dangerous situation, he couldn't help the grin that formed on his face.

"Cat-like? Lucky for you the door was open or there'd be a McGoo shaped hole in the wall right now."

Tony's body tensed suddenly and he gestured for McGee to be quiet. McGee's heart pounded furiously but he relaxed a little once he saw Tony's sheepish grin.

"Did you hear something?" McGee whispered.

"It's okay," came Tony's hushed replied. "It's just some kind of bird."

"Oh, actually, that was the night call of a honey-eating wood wren," McGee informed him.

"Wha...it's the what?"

"The scout troop and I often go bird watching – it's fascinating."

"McGee, as acting Team Leader I order you to get a life," Tony said, his lips twitching slightly. "How come being a scout leader taught you the night call of some honey-eating wren but you still don't know what poison ivy looks like?"

At a loss for a suitable reply, McGee surreptitiously checked the vegetation around him, realising he had completely forgotten about his previous painful encounters with the noxious weed.

They remained quiet for a few moments, still listening for signs that they were being followed. Tony's expression turned serious.

"Tell me you still have the hard drive," he said.

McGee lifted the hard drive in his right hand. "You mean this?"

"Good job, Probie," Tony whispered. "Still got your backpack?"

"I couldn't get to it," he replied. "Sorry."

Tony schooled his features and bit back a curse, knowing they had just lost half of their ammunition and supplies.

"Don't worry about it," he said taking the hard drive and placing it into his own backpack. "How many clips do you have?"

McGee checked his pockets, revealing three clips and his PDA. "One for my spare and two for the Sig," he said.

Tony nodded. "Make sure that PDA is off and preserve your ammo, don't shoot unless you're sure you can take someone out," Tony told him.

"I can't see anything! How do I know what I'm shooting at?"

"Here," Tony said passing his night vision goggles to McGee. "Put these on."

"What about you?"

"Don't argue, McGee, just do it," Tony snapped, trying to give the younger agent every advantage.

"Who do you think they are?"

"I've got a pretty good idea but I'm sure I know what they want," Tony replied.

"The data on the hard drive? How'd they know it was here?"

That was the million-dollar question and right now, Tony prayed that the hollow feeling in his gut was from missing lunch and dinner and not a silent warning that he had, once again, been set up by his superiors. Not wanting to alarm McGee until he knew for certain, Tony replied with a shrug.

"Maybe Khalil had someone watching his place while he was gone or maybe we set off some sort of auxiliary silent alarm."

"We disarmed the security system according to the schematics and blueprints," McGee said.

"Undercover 101, Probie," Tony said, "Do your own intel."

McGee nodded his head, understanding now why Tony had been so furious earlier, when told that there wasn't enough time for him to do his own intel.

"What do you want to do?" McGee asked in deference to Tony's seniority and greater experience in such situations.

"We go back. We stick to the tree line, circle the house and get to the car," Tony said checking his watch. "We've got an hour to get the car and drive to the airfield before we lose our ride home."

"And if that happens?" McGee asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"We find our own way home," Tony replied.

**--oo00oo--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs took the stairs to the Director's office two at a time ignoring the protests from his bad knee and finding that he ran out of stairs before he ran out of temper. As the outer office was empty, he barged through the door without pausing to knock. Expecting to find Vance seated behind the large oaken desk attending to piles of paperwork, he was surprised to find the desktop clean and the Director pacing anxiously on the other side of the office.

"Anything I can help you with, Gibbs?" Vance answered curtly.

"You can start by telling me what the DOD wants with my agents."

"You had to do it, didn't you?" Vance snarled. "I ordered you to leave it alone and you had to keep digging. Like I told you before, this is 'need to know' and you don't."

"The hell I don't!" Gibbs spat. "You sent two of my agents on an assignment without consulting me!"

"This may come as a shock to you, Gibbs, but as Director of this agency, DiNozzo and McGee are _my_ agents and I don't have to consult you about squat!"

Both men stood nose-to-nose, eyes flint-hard and struggling to control their fury. Without breaking his intense gaze Gibbs spoke in a voice fighting to remain calm.

"Where are my agents?"

Vance looked at his watch. "They should be on their way to catch the transport home."

"Should be? When was their last communication?"

Vance's eyes flicked away for a split second before returning to meet Gibbs' furious glare.

"Their orders are to communicate with someone else and only in a dire emergency."

"You sent two of our agents on a dangerous assignment and handed over control to someone else?" Gibbs said. "Why would you agree to that?"

"I had my orders too, Gibbs," Vance snapped defensively, "but unlike you, I follow mine."

"If they're injured or killed, Leon, I hope the fact that you were following orders will help you sleep nights," Gibbs didn't wait for an answer and strode from the office, closing the door forcefully behind him.

Vance ran his hands over his face and scrubbed his tired eyes before snatching his cell and dialling a number. As the call diverted to voicemail, he cursed vehemently then left his fourth message in 30 minutes.

"Brady, this is Vance. You were supposed to keep me apprised of the progress of this assignment. Those are my agents and I want an update, now! You have the number, I'll be waiting."

Despite his resentment of Gibbs' belligerent attitude, he couldn't help but feel that the Lead Agent was right. There was much more going on here than SecNav or Brady had told him and despite his "need to know" and "following orders" mantra, the simple fact was that he had authorised the use of two of his agents in an operation he knew very little about.

Taking a leaf from Gibbs' book he decided to find out for himself, he resumed his seat at his desk and switched on his computer. He took a deep breath and used his password and fingerprint to access a highly classified site. If he was right, he knew he had a limited time to access the information he sought before the agencies who had flagged the name, started asking questions.

He was defying orders but it was those same orders that had placed two of his agents in jeopardy without back-up. Gibbs' words reverberated in his mind, _'if they're injured or killed, Leon, I hope the fact that you were following orders will help you sleep nights._' Taking another deep breath he typed the name – Mehmood Khalil.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

McGee and Tony continued to backtrack towards the house, stepping cautiously and stopping every few feet to determine whether their position had been detected. They knew that Tony had effectively disposed of three of the six men pursuing them and were quietly confident of the odds of two against three. Holding their position in the woods, they could now hear the muted voices of the three men searching the woods for them with large halogen flashlights.

Once they broke the cover of the tree line they would have to run fifty yards in the open to get to their car. Tony turned his back to the house to face McGee and spoke quietly.  
"You ready, Probie?" he asked. "On my count you run like hell to the car and don't look back. I'll lay down cover fire if you need it and I'll be right behind you."

"Wait!" McGee protested. "Why don't you run and I'll lay down cover?"

"No offence McGee but I'm a better shot and I'm faster than you."

"I don't know, Tony. I think this is too risky. I'm...Tony."

"No, me Tony - you P-r-o-b-i-e," Tony whispered drawing out the nickname. "You must have hit your head harder than I thought."

"No, I mean – _Tony_, turn around, we've got more company!" McGee gestured to the front of the house with a nod of his head.

Tony turned back towards the house and cursed as he saw another dark SUV stop just outside the large gates of the property.

"You think that's back-up?" McGee whispered hopefully.

"I'm sure of it," Tony answered. "But it's their back-up, not ours."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Tobias Fornell sat back on his haunches and wiped his hands on well-worn overalls. He sighed appreciatively at the various machine parts spread on the drop sheet beneath him. '_Yep, she's really coming together,_' he thought.

His appraisal of his work was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock on his front door.  
Fornell checked his watch and saw that it was 0140 – this was definitely not a social call. Still wiping the grease from his hands he reached for his handgun and pressed himself against the door as he peered through the peephole.

"You shoot me through the door, Tobias, you'll make me spill your coffee," came the voice of his visitor.

Fornell rolled his eyes, turned the deadlock, opened the door and was immediately handed a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"Dammit, Gibbs, do you know what time it is?" Fornell growled. "Even Dianne doesn't come by this late when my alimony's late and she's out for my blood."

They walked into the living room, stepping over the tools and machine parts that were strewn across the drop sheet.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Fornell asked, gesturing for Gibbs to take a seat on the couch.

Gibbs removed a photograph from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to Fornell.

"You know this guy?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Fornell replied. "Name's Jason Brady, he's Senior Flunky to the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence. What's NCIS want with him?"

"The question is what does he want with NCIS?"

Fornell's brow furrowed in confusion, "He came to you?"

"He came to Vance, who sent me on some idiot detour while he enlisted two of my people on some highly classified, 'need to know' assignment," Gibbs replied tersely.

"Let me guess, he told you that you don't need to know and now you want me to help you find out what's going on?" Fornell replied.

Gibbs' intense stare was answer enough.

"You do realise I'm on vacation?" Fornell asked.

Gibbs gave an unconcerned shrug of his shoulders.

"I can tell you this, Jethro, Brady's a snake in the grass," Fornell warned him. "He's definitely the brains in that partnership and he'd step on his own grandmother to further his career."

"You saying I should be worried?"

"When Brady's involved?" Fornell replied. "Always."

Gibbs took a final gulp of his coffee and walked to the kitchen to dispose of the cup. On returning to the living room, he surveyed the chassis of the old motorbike and the various machine parts scattered carefully on the drop sheet.

"It's looking good," he said.

"She's gonna be a beauty when I'm done," Fornell replied. "A 1923 Harley-Davidson HT. Found on the scrap heap and then lovingly restored."

"Have you ever even _ridden_ a motorbike, Tobias?" Gibbs taunted.

"It's not in the riding, Gibbs, it's in the building – you been sailing lately?" he replied with a grin.

Gibbs huffed out a laugh and was almost at the door before he stopped and turned to look at his old friend.

"Should I ask why you're building a motorcycle in the middle of your living room?"

This time Fornell shrugged, "Because I haven't got a basement."

The corners of Gibbs' mouth twitch in a small smile. "Good enough," he said and without another word, he let himself out.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Tony and McGee watched from the relative safety of their position among the trees as three men climbed from the SUV, drew their weapons and headed for the house. They stopped along the way to check the bodies of the three men Tony had killed, for signs of life.

As they disappeared from sight, it appeared as though they were all going to enter the house from the front and McGee was ready to make a break for the car.

"Come on!" he whispered to Tony. "Now's our chance."

As he started to move forward, Tony grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back.

"Wait!" he hissed and as McGee struggled against his hold, two armed men rounded the corner of the house. McGee's mouth dropped open slightly as he realised that, had they broken cover, he and Tony would have been caught in the open and more than likely killed.

"How'd you know they'd split up?" McGee asked quietly.

"That's what I would have done," Tony explained.

Two men circled the house while the third entered and checked the rooms and the basement. Satisfied that there was no-one in the house they met on the back lawn speaking in Urdu and gesticulating wildly toward the trees. A fourth man ran from the woods to join their discussion.

Tony turned to McGee. "Probie, there's two more in the woods looking for us. Use the night vision goggles and see if you can spot where they are."

McGee nodded and watched as Tony removed the night vision sight from the rifle and held it to one eye to get a clearer view of the four men. He couldn't understand the language but he recognised the furious tones and saw from their hand signals that the men were preparing to split up and join the search for them. Cut off from the car, they had no choice but to head further into the woods.

"Probie, where are the others?" he asked.

"One of them is about 200 yards to our right and moving further into the woods."  
McGee whispered.

"What about the other one?"

"I can't find him," McGee answered.

"Keep looking, Probie, we don't want to run into him."

Tony turned back to the four men, who were checking their ammunition and the flashlights as they prepared to enter the woods. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the man doing most of the talking. A vague feeling of recollection washed over him as he tried to remember where he had seen this man before.

He could hear McGee moving quietly behind him, still searching for the position of the second pursuer. Tony felt another painful clenching of his gut and turned quickly to check on his partner. The younger agent was standing about 15 feet from him, still peering deeper into the woods. Rolling his eyes and embarrassed by his sudden rush of panic, Tony started to turn back to his position when something fell to the ground between them with a disquieting thump. There was no time for Tony to call out a warning as the concussion grenade detonated and his world exploded to white and then black.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Still watching the live feed in a secure room within the Pentagon, the Under Secretary leapt to his feet in alarm as the terrorists dragged the seemingly lifeless bodies of the two agents into the clearing.

"God dammit!!" he yelled. "You idiot!! Do you realise what you've done? We are now complicit in the death of those two agents! I should have never listened to you!"

"Sir, you have to calm down," Brady said.

"Calm down? This whole thing was supposed to boost my standing in the eyes of the Secretary of Defence and the President and secure our jobs. In stead you've just ended both of our careers."

"With all due respect, sir, we don't know that they are dead," Brady said. "However, I do agree that we are in way over our heads here."

"Our intel said that Khalil had just formed this sleeper cell and that they were just kids!" the Under Secretary seethed. "We were supposed to be dealing with half a dozen, pimply-faced 19 to 20 year olds with handguns. These were heavily armed and highly trained terrorists!"

"It appears our intel was wrong, Sir."

"Tell me, Brady, can you see a way of salvaging this situation politically?"

"No, Sir, I don't," Brady replied. "Whether those agents are dead or alive, I'm afraid there will be a very public inquiry. The President will either summarily dismiss us or we'll be forced to resign. Either way, we'll be brought up on charges."

"Then I suggest you take my advice, Brady," the Under Secretary said.

"Sir?"

"Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in a Federal penitentiary, clean out your bank accounts, grab your passport and be on the first plane."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N:** For the purpose of the story, I have used a little "license" with regard to the usage of the concussion grenades. These are anti-personnel devices designed to damage their target with explosive power alone rather than shrapnel and are most effective in confined or enclosed spaces – not the outdoors. Apologies to grenade lovers, everywhere. L


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 6**

Consciousness returned in small painful increments. He was lying on cold hard concrete and felt the dampness seeping through his clothes. The smell of stale air assailed him and he groaned softly as he fought against a rush of nausea. The buzzing sound in his head was beginning to subside and he turned away from the irritating voice persistently calling his name.

Still unwilling to open his eyes he realised his arms were pulled uncomfortably behind his back and bound tightly at the wrists. His eyes flew open and he struggled quickly to his feet but his legs buckled causing him to fall hard on his knees. McGee was with him, leaning into him to keep him upright and still calling his name worriedly.

"Probie?" Tony croaked, noting that McGee's hands were also bound behind his back. "You okay?"

"You mean, apart from the jackhammer that's drilling into my brain?" McGee replied sardonically. "I'm okay. You?"

"I'll see your jackhammer and raise you an ice pick," Tony replied, finding he could now leave his eyelids at half-mast without too much discomfort.

McGee smiled tightly. After seeing his partner lying so still, he was relieved to hear the humour in Tony's voice.

"Where are we? What happened?" Tony asked still squinting as he looked around.

"Looks like the basement of Khalil's house," McGee said then frowned deeply. "You don't remember the concussion grenade?"

Tony scrunched his eyes closed and groaned as the memory came crashing back. "How long were we out? What time is it?"

"Well…you were out about 10 minutes longer than me and while I'd like to think that could be attributed to my superior fitness it's more likely due to the fact that the grenade was much closer to you," McGee conceded. "As for what time it is, with my hands tied behind my back, I can't see my watch."

Tony struggled to move forward. "Here, can you see my watch?"

"Are you kidding me? My headache's so bad I can barely see your arm!" McGee replied.

"Turn around," Tony told him.

"What? Why?"

"I wanna see what time it is, Probie, turn around so I can see your watch."

McGee turned around and Tony bent closer to the watch.

"Well?" McGee said huffing out a laugh. "You can't see it either, can you?"

"Wait…wait," Tony said blinking furiously to try to clear his vision. "Mickey Mouse's big hand is on the two and his little hand is…also on the two."

"We missed our ride home," McGee said harshly. "What a freakin' mess!"

"Come on Probie! Where's that McFamous optimism?"

"Well, how would you describe our situation?" McGee challenged.

Tony paused and then added, "Okay…that's a pretty accurate assessment but look at it this way, it can't get any worse, right?"

"Don't bet on it!" McGee grumbled.

"Why do you always think the worst?"

"Because then I'm not disappointed - and for your information, Tony, I haven't worn the Mickey Mouse watch in months," McGee said joining in the banter and hoping it would ease the tension.

"Easy, Probie, go to your happy place."

They backed up against a wall and sat silently for a few moments.

"Rats!" McGee groaned.

"Come on, Probie! At least _try_ to be a little more positive. Yes, it's a tough situation, yes there's every chance we'll be killed but if you give up now we'll never get out of here."

"No, Tony, I mean there are rats over there."

Tony's head snapped around and he saw the rats scurrying along in the semi-darkness. He couldn't help the violent shiver through his body.

"Yeesh!"

"Easy, Tony, go to your happy place," McGee said.

Another few moments passed in silence until McGee asked, "So, who are these guys anyway?"

"Well, they're definitely Pakistani and they were speaking Urdu. My guess would be some of Khalil's buddies from a Harkat-ul-Mujahideen cell."

"HuM? Here in the US?"

"Yep, probably came in on student visas, formed a sleeper cell and have been waiting for the opportunity or information to commit some kind of terrorist act on US soil."

"Like the information on the hard drive that they just got from us," McGee said cursing under his breath.

"That'd be my bet," Tony said. "The favoured tactics of HuM include terrorist bombings, kidnappings and political assassinations. In1988 they agreed to Bin Ladin's fatwa calling for attacks on U.S. and Western interests. Their group is closely associated with Osama bin Laden, al-Qaeda and the Taliban."

"They keep dangerous company."

"That's why we have to get the hell out of here," Tony said. "You got anything on you?"

"Nothing. They must have taken our weapons while we were unconscious."

Tony shook his head. "Not all of our weapons, Probie, remember rule number nine?"

"Never date girls that can bench press more than you?" McGee said uncertainly.

"That's good advice," Tony said seriously. "But I wasn't talking about DiNozzo's rule number nine, I meant Gibbs' rule number nine – always carry a knife."

"You have a knife on you? Where?"

"In my belt buckle, but here's the tricky bit…you're gonna have to get it out," Tony said with a grimace.

The two men looked at each other with mirrored expressions of awkward trepidation before sighing simultaneously. With their hands bound behind their backs, this was not going to be easy. McGee turned his back to Tony and flexed his fingers that were tingly and numb from the tightness of the ropes. Tony cleared his throat in preparation of directing McGee's hands to his belt buckle.

"Okay, Probie, take it slowly," he laughed nervously, "go in too low and you'll have to make an honest man of me."

They managed to extricate the knife relatively quickly and to their great relief, without having to become betrothed. McGee still had the knife in his fingers when the door to the basement opened, a man looked in to ensure they were both conscious before disappearing through the door again.

"Keep that knife in your back pocket, Probie," Tony said. "It's unlikely they'll check us for weapons a second time. I'll try to draw their attention and when you get the chance, you work on those ropes. Got it?"

"Got it," McGee confirmed; overcome with dread as he wondered just how Tony planned to draw their attention.

The door opened again and the overhead light flicked on, causing both men to squint against the harsh brightness. Several men crossed the small landing and began descending the stairs. Tony looked as serious as McGee could ever recall seeing him.

"Show time," Tony said softly.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs stalked from the elevator to the bullpen, where Ziva and Abby were waiting for his return.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, I was just about to call you," Abby squealed as she leapt to her feet with way too much energy for 0230. "I got a hit on my facial recognition program. Mr Slick's real name is…"

"Jason Brady," Gibbs replied as he sensed the eyes of Director Vance upon him from the mezzanine level and watched as Vance gestured towards his office with a curt nod of his head.

"Oh…" Abby said disappointedly. "But did you know that he is…."

"Senior Aide for the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence. Got it, Abs, I'll be with the Director," he said walking towards the stairs.

Abby's mouth formed a thin straight line and her eyes narrowed in frustration as she looked across the bullpen at Ziva. "I hate it when he does that!"

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

When Gibbs walked through the open door to the Director's office, the look of grim apprehension on Vance's face was enough to send a wave of dread crashing over him and his heart pounded rapidly in his chest.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I just received word that DiNozzo and McGee missed their return transport," Vance replied.

"Dammit, Leon! I told you something like this might happen!"

"Just because they missed their ride home doesn't mean they're in trouble," Vance argued, more to convince himself than Gibbs. "They could have got a flat tyre for all you know."

"And they could be dead for all _you_ know," Gibbs hissed.

Vance cleared his throat and looked a little reticent, "After our last…conversation…I tried to access the DOD file on Mehmood Khalil to do some checking of my own."  
Gibbs blood ran cold at the mention of the terrorists name and the thought that his agents could be mixed up with Harkat-ul-Mujahideen.

"Mehmood Khalil! You better start at the beginning, Leon," he suggested through gritted teeth.

"Khalil is currently on a recruiting drive, visiting Islamic training camps in Pakistan, India and Afghanistan and looking for men with explosives, weapons and artillery training to join his sleeper cell in Virginia," Vance replied. "Intel from CIA says he was recently sent email containing encrypted information of a planned terrorist attack on a major US naval base. When he gets back he will activate his cell and use the information to strike at an unknown location. Potentially, we could be looking at another 9/11. DiNozzo and McGee were to get into the house, decrypt the information and forward it to a secure email address at the DOD, then get out."

"Why NCIS?" Gibbs asked. "Doesn't exactly come under our purview. Why not Special Ops or a Seals team?"

"A direct order from SecNav and the Under Secretary makes it our purview," Vance replied. "They wanted two agents, one with enough computers training to break the encryption and one to watch his back. Two agents who would follow orders, no questions asked."

"No questions asked…and you picked DiNozzo?" Gibbs scoffed incredulously.

"I picked David – you picked DiNozzo when you switched agents at Parris Island."

Gibbs shook his head, "Tony wouldn't walk into this blindly."

"He wasn't given a choice. He was his usual mouthy self, asking questions, wanting to do his own intel but we were out of time," Vance said looking rather uncomfortable. "I told him to do it or I'd find another agent to go with McGee."

"He'd never let anyone else watch McGee's back," Gibbs said low and menacingly.

"I was counting on that," Vance admitted. "He may act like a goofball but DiNozzo's a good agent. I needed someone to get in, get the job done and get the hell out."

"If you think he's a good agent, why'd you make me fight so damn hard to get him back on my team?" Gibbs demanded.

"Just making a point," Vance replied flatly.

"What point?"

"That unlike my predecessor, I won't be dictated to by one of my agents," Vance said firmly.

Gibbs bit back a reply knowing that there was an element of truth to Vance's words.

"Where was the drop-off and pick-up point?" Gibbs asked returning to the matter at hand.

"A small airfield near Blacksburg, Virginia," Vance replied. "There was an SUV waiting there for them and they had a 30-minute drive to Khalil's house."

"Address?"

Vance could barely hold Gibbs' gaze as he admitted, "I wasn't given the address. All I can tell you is that it's a 30 minute drive from the airfield and a remote property that backs onto a woods or forest of some kind."

"Sixty-five percent of Virginia is forest, Leon," Gibbs remarked angrily. "What was the plan if something went wrong?"

"They were to head to a safe house…I…er…I don't have that address either," Vance admitted. "As I said, I just tried to access Khalil's DOD file."

"As Director of NCIS you're authorised to access that file," Gibbs affirmed.

"Somebody doesn't think so, my access code has been blocked," Vance said. "Someone is purposely keeping us in the dark about Khalil and this whole damn assignment."

"The Under Secretary? SecNav?" Gibbs asked.

"Take your pick," he replied bitterly. "Even Brady refuses to return my calls. If McGee and DiNozzo weren't meeting a Navy supply chopper, I still wouldn't know that they'd missed their damn transport."

"Any chance Khalil came home early?"

"I'd say there's no chance of that," Fornell replied from the still open office doorway. He nodded a brief greeting at the Director before addressing his reply to Gibbs.

"I did as you asked and checked with a few contacts about Jason Brady."

"And?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"And Mehmood Khalil has been a high-value detainee in Gitmo for two weeks."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Two of the six Pakistani terrorists loaded the three bodies of their colleagues into the back of their van and drove away. The four remaining men walked down the basement stairs and positioned two chairs and a small table in the middle of the room.

"Redecorating?" Tony quipped. "It could really use a touch of paint to brighten up the place and I hate to tell you, but you have a rodent problem. Ew."

He saw a snide smile on the lips of one man as he and McGee were dragged to their feet and roughly deposited on the chairs.

Tony continued to look at the leader of the group as the man leaned casually against the far wall. His black hair was neatly cut short and he was clean-shaven but there was something about his eyes…Tony couldn't put his finger on it but he knew he'd seen this man before.

McGee and Tony exchanged a quick look as the four men formed a whispering huddle.

While the leader continued to lean on the wall, Anwar returned to stand next to McGee and Zaheer next to Tony.

"Hey look, guys, there's no need for anyone to get hurt," Tony said wearing his trademark smile. "I'm sure we can talk about this."

Anwar moved his bulky frame into Tony's space and backhanded him across the face, leaving his cheek stinging from the blow.

"Okay," Tony muttered, "So talking's out."

Shoaib approached and placed Tony and McGee's backpacks on the table.

"Ooh, I'm glad you found those," Tony said. "I don't suppose you could grab a couple of energy bars from my pack…you see, I kinda missed a few meals and I'm  
so hungry I could chew my own arm off."

The leader gave a barely perceptible nod of his head to Anwar and he drove his fist into Tony's stomach with a force that knocked the breath out of him. Tony bent forward, his eyes closed tightly and gasping for breath.

"So…no talking _and_ no eating," he wheezed.

"What are you doing here?" the leader asked in heavily accented English.

Tony sat upright in his chair still feeling the ache of his bruised abdomen. "Well," he replied, "I may be wrong 'cause, well, we _were_ unconscious at the time, but my guess is you and your dancing girls brought us here."

The reply resulted in another nod and another sickening blow to the abdomen that left Tony retching.

"Allow me to answer for you, funny man," the leader replied. "You are federal agents, ordered to break into this house and steal the hard drive containing, shall we say, crucial information. This is correct, no?"

Tony was still bent forward, trying to ease the pain in his abdomen, so the leader turned to face McGee.

"Well?" the leader asked.

McGee's silence drew a similar response from Zaheer and as he felt the air driven forcefully from his lungs he vaguely heard Tony's voice in the background.

"Come on, man," Tony protested, "now that's just rude!"

The leader's lips formed a snarl and his dark kohl eyes were unreadable.

"Shoaib?" he said nodding to the man standing to his left who emptied the contents of McGee's backpack onto the surface of the table.

McGee forced himself to sit straight on his chair as Tony had done, ignoring the pain still burning in his belly. He knew the hard drive was not in his pack as he had inadvertently left the pack behind as they scrambled from the house. He struggled to keep all expression from his face as Shoaib lifted Tony's pack and emptied the contents.

McGee's eyes widened in shock and despite his efforts to remain stoic he turned his head toward Tony as he realised the hard drive was also missing from Tony's pack. He cursed quietly realising he had just silently told the Pakistanis what they needed to know – Tony was responsible for the missing hard drive.

"Relax, Probie," Tony consoled him, "just remind me to invite you around for my next poker night – bring your check book."

Anwar and Zaheer dragged the chairs until Tony and McGee were facing each other and about 10 feet apart.

The leader paced the length of the basement, his eyes never leaving Tony's as he sized up his opponent.

"Where is the hard drive?" the leader demanded.

Tony pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Hard drive…that's part of a computer, right?"

Tony's head snapped to the right as Anwar caught him high on the left cheekbone with a harsh blow.

"The hard drive," the leader repeated impatiently.

"You're gonna have to trust me here, guys," Tony panted. "I know cars, sports, women and movies but computers….not so much."

Tony's world exploded in pain as another fierce blow caught him in the abdomen robbing his lungs of precious oxygen and leaving him gulping for air.

McGee flinched with every brutal blow. His stomach lurched when he realized that Tony had purposely not told him that he had hidden the hard drive. While McGee had been cursing his unguarded reaction that had placed his partner in jeopardy, Tony had been counting on it, hoping to draw the unwanted attention of their captors away from the younger man. He carefully fingered Tony's knife from his back pocket and started to cut the ropes tying his hands.

"I do not like your sense of humour," the leader said.

Tony nodded slightly and then grimaced as the movement left him nauseous.

"I get that a lot," he said.

"I am not a patient man," the leader said grabbing a fistful of Tony's hair and painfully pulling his head backwards. "Where is the hard drive?"

"Sorry…must have left it in my other pants," Tony gasped.

Another rousing blow to Tony's jaw split his lip and knocked him to the floor. With his hands still tied behind his back, he fell heavily on his shoulder. Spitting blood, he was cruelly grabbed from behind and harshly re-seated on the chair. His chest heaved as he struggled to control his breathing and his head hung forward until his chin rested against his chest.

"I do not think you know who you are dealing with, Mr. Federal Agent," the leader said with a menacing sneer.

Tony's head rose slowly and McGee almost didn't recognize the hate-filled eyes and the hardened expression that had transformed his partner's usually cheerful and genial features.

"I know who you are and what you are, Saleem Akram," Tony hissed. "I've been staring at your ugly face on our Most Wanted board for two years."

He heard McGee gasp audibly. With his hair cut short and the long straggly beard missing, he would never have identified the terrorist.

"You know me? I am flattered," Saleem said in a mocking tone.

"Don't be," Tony said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I know a lot of dirt bags – goes with the job, you know how it is?"

Saleem's lips curled in a snarl as Tony continued.

"You know, Sal, you really should thank me. Most of my colleagues say you're not worth spitting on…but I defended you – I said you were."

The ferocity of the blow that followed tipped Tony from the chair and McGee was certain that his partner was unconscious before he hit the floor.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Unable to wait for something to happen, Abby and Ziva had pre-empted Gibbs' next order by sourcing and subsequently tracing Jason Brady's cell phone number. The trace revealed that Brady's cell phone was in the Pentagon but high-tech security in the fortress-like building prevented them from isolating an exact location. They placed a call to his Pentagon office but at 0300 they were not surprised when the phone directed to the answering machine.

Switching their thoughts to Brady's car they ran a DMV check and noted a LoJack transmitter that placed the vehicle in the Pentagon car park. They decided to keep monitoring the transmitter in case Brady left the building.

"Think positive…that's what we have to do, Ziva, we have to think happy thoughts and create an aura of calm, peaceful positiveness," Abby said as she checked her watch. "Tony and McGee are due back in, like, 30 minutes – they'll probably walk in here safe and sound and still arguing about Tony's Fillet-o'-Fish burger - then I'll hug them both silly and tell them how glad I am that they are okay."

Ziva smiled. "And then, we can beat them senseless for making us worry."

Abby's eyes narrowed and her head tilted slightly as she recognised the dangerous gleam in Ziva's eyes.

"Um, Ziva…I don't think you quite grasped the concept of the whole calm, peaceful, positiveness thing."

"You do things your way, Abby, and I will do things my way," Ziva grinned at the worried look on the forensic scientist's face until she noticed Vance, Gibbs and Fornell descending the stairs all wearing determined looks.

"This does not look good," she murmured as her smile disappeared.

The night shift team had been called to a crime scene and the bullpen lights were dimmed. Gibbs and Director Vance brought Ziva and Abby up to date with what they had pieced together.

"Officer David, contact Agent Greg Lucas our agent in Gitmo," Vance instructed, "I want to know why we weren't informed that Mehmood Khalil was being held."

Ziva's eyes flicked to Gibbs and she received a quick nod before she replied, "Yes, Sir."

"Tobias," Gibbs said, "you still got that cottage near Jefferson National Forest?"

"Heading up there next week," Fornell confirmed.

"That's only 20 miles from Blacksburg. You know that area pretty well?"

"Been going up there for over 20 years."

"I could use your help compiling a list of possible locations of Khalil's house," Gibbs said. "We know it's remote, a 30-minute drive from Blacksburg airfield and backs onto a forested area."

Fornell nodded, "Happy to help but that's a lot of properties."

"Miss Scuito," Vance said, gallantly extending his elbow towards her. "I need your assistance in your lab."

"You do? …I mean…sure…may I ask why, Director Vance, Sir?"

He looked around to ensure he was out of earshot before he replied.

"You and I are going to hack into the Department of Defence main frame," then he escorted a wide-eyed, open-mouthed Abby to the elevator.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N: Overwhelmed by the support for this story, thank you all. L**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

_A/N As we reach the half way mark in the story, I thank you for your continued support. Hope you enjoy chapter seven. L_

**Chapter 7**

Cold water splashed across his face dragging him reluctantly from the dark, serenity of unconsciousness. His eyes opened to slits allowing the harsh light to drive shards of agony into his brain. He closed his eyes again, unable to cope with the wavering double vision that caused his stomach to rebel and sent hot bile rising to the back of his throat. He swallowed the bitterness as rough hands grabbed him from behind and once again forced him upright into a chair.

His heart skipped a beat when he remembered where he was and that McGee had been with him. He forced his eyes open wider and fought against the dizziness that threatened to pitch him back onto the floor. He saw McGee, bruised and bloody but conscious, alert and sitting across from him. Tony exhaled in relief and the two agents exchanged a wordless message of support.

"Welcome back, funny man." Saleem snarled. "Be warned - we are through playing games with you. You will tell me where the hard drive is right now or you will die."

Tony nodded in McGee's direction and winced as the throbbing in his skull intensified.

"You let him go and I'll take you to the hard drive."

Saleem shook his head. "Not going to happen."

McGee watched as Tony's features hardened again. His voice held a raw and dangerous edge McGee had never heard before.

"You want the hard drive, let him go."

Saleem snorted contemptuously. "You are not in any position to be making demands."

"See, that's where we disagree, Sal," Tony replied. "I've got what you want, that puts me in the driver's seat."

With a nod from Saleem, Zaheer drew his arm back and backhanded Tony across the face. Tony felt the warm sticky blood flowing from his nose and exhaled deeply waiting for the room to stop spinning. He squared his shoulders and quipped.

"Of course, I didn't say it was a very comfortable driver's seat."

Saleem drew his weapon and aimed it directly at Tony's heart.

"It's a big forest, Sal - kill me and you'll never find the hard drive," Tony said calmly as he set his jaw defiantly and impaled the terrorist with a glare that almost dared him to pull the trigger.

Saleem smiled wolfishly then turned and thrust the barrel of his gun hard against McGee's temple.

"You may have the hard drive funny man, but we have your partner and you have five seconds to tell me where the hard drive is."

McGee slipped the knife into his back pocket and sat rigidly in his chair. He was completely unnerved by the feel of the cold hard gun-barrel pressed against his head. Images of his broken hearted family imposed themselves into his thoughts and he felt numb with despair.

"Three seconds," Saleem, warned.

McGee tried desperately to steel his features and rein in his fear. He looked across at his partner's bloodied face and concentrated on the green eyes silently demanding his trust. He was surprised to find that he gave it unconditionally.

"One second," Saleem announced his finger adding a miniscule amount of pressure to the trigger.

"Wait!" Tony snarled. "I'll do it. I'll show you where it is, just put the gun down."

McGee felt the relief surge through his body as the gun was removed from his head. He felt ridiculously grateful that he was seated, as he knew at that moment, his legs would struggle to bear his weight. He took a deep breath and stretched his shaking fingers to retrieve the knife from his pocket and continued to cut the ropes binding his wrists.

"Wise choice," Saleem answered smugly before calling his three companions into another huddle by the foot of the stairs.

"You okay?" Tony whispered.

McGee nodded, not yet trusting his voice.

"You got the knife?"

Another nod.

"I'll lead these guys away from the house," Tony continued. "You know what to do - cut yourself loose then get the hell outta here."

"But…"

"You have a problem taking orders, McGee?" Tony hissed with his green eyes blazing. "This may be your only chance; you get the hell outta here, are we clear?"

"We're clear, Tony," came McGee's barely audible reply.

Saleem and Shoaib made their way up the stairs to the house as Zaheer and Anwar grabbed a shoulder each and roughly dragged Tony to his feet. He shrugged off their hands and walked across the room, nearly falling as the world tilted recklessly under him and then righted itself again. As he started to climb the stairs, his hands still tied behind his back, a forceful shove from behind knocked him face down on the staircase. He turned his head to see McGee watching him without expression and he held his gaze for a few moments before sending a barely perceptible nod, climbing awkwardly back on his feet and out the door.

McGee's heart beat rapidly. He knew that, as soon as Tony gave them the hard drive, they were both as good as dead. He pushed the thought from his mind and focussed on Tony's order, _'Cut yourself free and get the hell outta here,' _and he resumed cutting the ropes with renewed vigour.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Ziva walked across the bullpen to where Gibbs and Fornell were discussing possible sites of Khalil's house on an aerial view map of the Blacksburg area. Gibbs looked up as she approached.

"You got something?" he asked.

"I just spoke with Agent Lucas at Guantanamo Bay," she replied. "He advised that a prisoner was brought to the facility approximately 2 weeks ago by the CIA. He was classified as a high-value detainee."

"He have a name?" Gibbs asked.

"Agent Lucas said the prisoner has been registered as Asif Javed and his identity papers appeared legitimate," Ziva replied. "He has not been allowed access to the prisoner but he has seen him from a distance in the exercise yard."

Gibbs looked over his shoulder at Fornell, "How reliable is your source?"

"Very reliable," Fornell replied confidently. "I wouldn't put it past the CIA to have falsified the identifty papers or the name on the register ."

"Call Lucas back," Gibbs told Ziva, "we need to confirm identity of this Asif Javed. Tell him to use a telescopic lens and to do it quietly – no one else finds out."

As Ziva returned to her desk to place another call to Gitmo, Fornell and Gibbs turned their attention back to the plasma screen and the aerial view map.

"So we have 49 possible locations," Gibbs re-capped, "all approximately 30-minutes drive from the Blacksburg airstrip, remote and all backing on to a wooded or forested area."

"How you wanna do this?" Fornell asked.

"We'll get each address and check the owner's name," Gibbs replied. "It's not likely Khalil's used his real name so we'll need to do the usual paper trail search - social security numbers, DMV photo checks, bank accounts activity that kinda thing."

"It's gonna take some time," Fornell said.

"If you've got a better idea, Tobias, I'd like to hear it," Gibbs snapped. "I've got two agents out there somewhere, involved in God knows what!"

"No, no better ideas," Fornell said quietly, understanding the concern and desperation driving his friend's harsh words.

Gibbs' fingers hovered over his keyboard without touching the keys. A few seconds passed before Fornell spoke again.

"Do you even _know_ how to do an on-line paper trail search?" he asked.

"Yeah, I get McGee to do it!" Gibbs said indignantly. "How 'bout you?"

"Same…I have my people do it," he answered sheepishly.

The Senior Agents looked around the office to ensure their conversation wasn't overheard.

"Pull up a chair, Tobias," Gibbs said with a shrug, "How hard can this be?"

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Vance and Abby arrived at the lab and Abby immediately powered up two computers that were situated side by side on one of her workstations. The Director immediately accessed his own account and printed off a document. He retrieved it from the printer and handed it to Abby.

"Before we start, you should read this," he said.

"What is it?" she enquired.

"It's your statement, explaining that you were ordered, by me, to do what we are about to do," he explained. "It absolves you from all culpability should we get caught hacking into the DOD site."

Abby cast a tentative glance at the document.

"Ms Scuito…I will not allow you to assist me if you don't sign this statement."

Abby's eyes narrowed slightly as she silently appraised him and he mistook her hesitation for reluctance.

"If you'd rather not do this, now's the time to speak up," he told her.

Looking him squarely in the eyes, Abby replied, "May I borrow your pen, Director?"

Having signed the document, Abby listened as Vance explained the intricacies of anti-hacking and intrusion prevention protocols of the DOD. The method of data-splitting their sensitive files by storing elements of an encrypted file on separate servers had proved very successful and almost impenetrable. Although Abby was no slouch when it came to computers, she couldn't help but be impressed by Vance's knowledge.

"How many times does the system split the data?" Abby asked.

"On highly classified and sensitive files like this – two maybe three times."

At Abby's blanched expression the Director continued to explain.

"When a file is created, the system automatically generates a 'secret' file containing randomly selected data and by combining the two files a new encrypted file is created and the original file is destroyed. The two remaining files are then stored on two different servers."

"So, to access the file we need, we have to hack into at least two servers, while circumnavigating, like, a zillion firewalls and intrusions detection programs, to reach the encrypted file and the 'secret' file," Abby continued. "Then we use the randomly selected data in the 'secret' file to decrypt the encrypted file and get our information?"

Vance nodded. "That's right," he said. "You still want in."

"If it helps Tony and McGee - you betcha!" Abby replied, her green eyes shining with determination.

They had been typing away furiously on their respective keyboards for almost an hour when their concentration was disturbed by a rich British accent resonating through the unusually quiet lab.

"Abigail, my dear," Ducky called as he entered through the sliding glass doors with his young assistant trailing behind. "We were just heading out to…"

Ducky stopped so suddenly that Jimmy cannoned into him from behind, earning an exasperated look from the ME.

"I do apologise, I didn't realise that anybody else was here," he said in an uncharacteristically tense and strained tone.

"That's quite alright, Doctor," Vance replied. "Is there something I should know about?"

Ducky chortled without humour. "Perhaps, Sir, that question would have been best directed to your superiors before you involved our two young men in whatever mess they're now in."

"Um…Ducky…" Abby tried to interrupt.

The ME did not hear her words nor did he notice her repeatedly sliding her index finger across her throat in an effort to stop his tirade. Ducky had his dander up and he blustered on oblivious to Abby's warning.

"Furthermore, Director, as you are in no small part responsible for these dire circumstances, the least you could do is roll up your sleeves and assist those of us who care about Anthony and Timothy, to get on with the job of locating them!"

Abby and Palmer exchanged wide-eyed mortified looks and Abby tried to speak again, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen upon the group.

"Um…Duckman…the Director and I have been working for an hour to get information to help Tony and Tim," she said softly. "He is_ totally_ helping us."

"Yes, well…" Ducky stammered briefly before finding his composure and turning to his assistant. "I hope you've learned from this, Mr Palmer, when you jump to conclusions without knowing the full circumstances you wind up looking very foolish indeed."

Jimmy's jaw dropped open. "Me?" he uttered in disbelief. "But Doctor…"

Pivoting back towards the Director, Ducky attempted to explain.

"Please excuse him, Director, it's been a very trying day and his concern for Anthony and Timothy seems to have clouded his judgement," Ducky said. "Perhaps his blood sugar needs checking, he is a diabetic you know. Come, Mr. Palmer, let me take you out for some refreshments, my treat. In fact, we'll bring back refreshments for everyone - we all need to keep our strength up. I remember once when I was backpacking through Egypt…."

Ducky's voice faded out as he grabbed a very confused Palmer by the arm and beat a hasty retreat from the lab.

Abby worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "Don't be mad, Director, they're just concerned about Tony and McGee," she said. "We all are."

"Then let's get back to work and find them," Vance said.

"You got it, Mister...I mean, Director!" Abby said, returning her attention to her computer.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

His pulse pounded heavily in his temples as Tony stumbled toward the forested area at the back of the house. Saleem, Shoaib, Anwar and Zaheer followed a yard or so behind speaking in their native Urdu and no doubt planning to kill Tony and McGee as soon as they had possession of the hard drive.

As Tony had hoped, all four terrorists had accompanied him, leaving McGee alone to cut himself free and get the hell outta Dodge. This whole freakin' assignment had been a bust right from the start but at least he'd done one thing right – he'd watched his partner's six and created an opportunity for him to escape. Despite his own bleak future, Tony found that thought strangely comforting.

The biting wind cut through his sweater and the late fall temperature turned each breath to mist in the frigid air. His hands were still painfully bound behind his back restricting his movements and every forceful shove from behind sent him staggering as he fought to remain on his feet. As they reached the tree line, a large hand grabbed his bicep and forced him to stop.

"Find the hard drive," Saleem demanded.

"That may be harder than you think," Tony explained. "After all, seen one tree seen 'em all, right?"

Zaheer drove his fist forcefully onto Tony's jaw bringing him to his knees. His vision greyed around the edges and bile burned the back of his throat. He spat the taste from his mouth and silently cursed the new bout of vertigo. Forcing himself to stand, he flexed his jaw and gasped for breath. Cold air filled his lungs and he inhaled in huge, grateful gulps.

"Seriously, guys…you want me to remember where I buried the hard drive, you gotta stop hitting me in the head," he gasped.

"This is where you were when we located you," Saleem continued. "The hard drive should be here."

"See, that's where you're wrong. We were running around out here in the dark for 20 minutes before your guys threw their little impromptu slumber party," Tony wheezed, his head still throbbing from the after effects of the concussion grenade.

Saleem looked at him with a mixture of contempt and disbelief.

"I told you I'd give you the hard drive, it may take me a little while to find it, that's all," Tony said. "I don't suppose you'd consider untying me so that I could look properly?"

Saleem considered the request for a moment and then looked at his colleagues who were all brandishing weapons in Tony's direction. He shrugged and after a curt instruction in Urdu, Anwar cut the bindings from Tony's wrists. He winced as the rush of circulation returned to his fingers and hands, bringing with it a tingling, burning sensation. He flexed his fingers and gently massaged his rope burned wrists.

"I'm gonna need a flashlight," Tony told them as Saleem sighed loudly in exasperation.

"You have five minutes," Saleem sighed throwing Tony a flashlight. "If I do not have the hard drive in my possession in five minutes, I will send Anwar to kill your friend. Do you understand me?"

Tony nodded and turned away, shining the flashlight on the ground and trying to re-trace his steps. He had made a small pile of leaves to mark where he had buried the item but the incessant wind had made locating it extremely difficult. His search became more desperate and his heart pounded rapidly when he heard Saleem call.

"Two minutes."

Tony fought another wave of nausea as he watched Anwar jog back toward the house.

"Wait, don't do this!" Tony called anxiously. "I swear I'm not playing you – I can't find where I buried it."

Tony continued his frantic search and Saleem raised a handheld transceiver in the air.

"In 30 seconds, I will instruct Anwar, to kill your friend," he said. "Whether he lives or dies is up to you."

Tony scoured the ground looking for signs, despite the bitter cold, he ran his hand over his brow and wiped the sweat from his eyes. Time was up and he knew it. Saleem pressed the transmission button on the radio and spoke two words to Anwar.

"Kill him."

Tony held his breath as all remaining colour leeched from his face and 5 seconds later, a single gunshot rent the cold night air.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

His fingers felt thick and numb from lack of circulation and he desperately kept a tenuous purchase on the knife as he attempted to cut his hands free. He was frustrated at how long it was taking and he knew that Tony would not be able to stall the terrorists for too long.

He cursed profusely as the knife slipped from his fingers, slick with sweat and blood, it bounced a yard away. He edged from the chair to the floor in stilted movements and backed up to the knife. Blindly, his fingers searched for the knife and he exhaled with relief when they wrapped around the hilt. He tried to ignore the stinging pain as his uncoordinated movements sent the razor sharp blade slicing into the flesh on his wrists. After an interval of minutes that seemed like hours, his bindings fell to the floor and his hands were free.

McGee examined the superficial cuts to his wrists and then looked at the knife.

"Gotta get me one of these," he muttered to himself.

He quickly made his way to the table where the contents of his and Tony's backpacks were strewn haphazardly. He quickly scooped the items back into the packs, relieved when he found the keys to their car, but noting with resignation that their weapons and their Sat phones were gone. Slinging both packs over his shoulder, he started for the stairs when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Placing the backpacks at the foot of the stairs, McGee quickly and silently climbed to the top landing and pressed his body against the wall. He listened intently, confirming the approach of only one man and then he held his breath as the door opened.

Anwar stepped onto the landing then caught a flash of movement to his right as McGee slammed the point of his elbow into his exposed Adam's apple, causing an instantly debilitating injury to the man's throat and larynx. Anwar was unable to draw any breath and he gasped loudly, dropping to his knees and releasing his hold on his radio transceiver and his weapon as his two hands grasped at his constricting airway.

McGee retrieved the gun and the transceiver and led Anwar, still fighting to breathe, to the bottom of the stairs, pushing him into his recently vacated seat. Using a measure of electrical cable he found spooled in the corner of the basement; he tied Anwar's hand and feet and was about to leave the basement when the transceiver crackled and two words sounded through the static. "Kill him."

McGee drew the gun from his waistband and pointed it in Anwar's direction. He knew that this man, this terrorist, would have killed him without hesitation. The man's eyes widened in fear as McGee's finger tightened on the trigger, then he jerked the barrel upwards and fired a round into the ceiling.

He stood stock still, weighing his options and once again he found himself reciting Tony's last words like a mantra, _'Cut yourself free and get the hell outta here.' _He gathered the backpacks and the car keys and left the house.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N Thanks for reading, L**


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 8**

"We're in!" Vance said calmly.

Despite her fatigue, Abby felt like dancing when she and the Director gained access to one of two DOD servers they needed to hack into, in order to obtain the file on Mehmood Khalil.

Abby and Vance had been working as quickly as they could, concentrating hard for just on two hours and surprisingly working like a cohesive, well-oiled team. As it was now closer to breakfast than dinner, Ducky and Palmer had called by again to deliver a selection of bagels and pastries, coffee and Caff-Pow, the elderly medic still apologising profusely for Palmer's earlier indiscretion.

Abby took another long draught of her Caff-Pow, complete with a loud slurping noise as her straw reached the bottom of the empty container. She looked paler than usual and her red-rimmed eyes told of the start of a headache.

"Need a break, Miss Scuito?" Vance asked.

"No, Sir, it's just…"

"Is there a problem?"

"My music," Abby said.

"Your music's a problem?"

"No, Sir, my music's not a problem…that is…my music's not usually a problem… only, at the moment…my music's a problem."

"You're not playing any music," Vance said.

"Yes, Sir and _that's_ the problem!" Abby explained biting her lower lip. "You see, my music helps me concentrate and I get a headache if it's not on."

"Then put it on."

"Really?" Abby said, "Gibbs always turns my music down…or off…depending on what mood he's in… but I really, really need my music."

"You got the latest CD from The Mummified Muskrats?" Vance asked.

Abby's green eyes bugged with surprise. "Do I? I love that album!" she said as she made her way to her sound system and held up the CD cover.

"It's not as good as their last effort but it's got some good dance music," Vance added, watching as Abby's jaw dropped open. "I have pre-teen kids, Miss Scuito. You'd be surprised by my knowledge of the latest music, the coolest fashions and 'must have' cell phones. Put the music on and get back here – we've still got to access the other server."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

"Gibbs," Ziva called across the bullpen. "I have just received an email from Agent Lucas at Guantanamo Bay. It contains photographs he has taken of the prisoner registered as Asif Javed."

"Put them on screen," Gibbs replied looking up at the large plasma screen.

With the push of a few buttons a long-range photo of a man in prison overalls, walking alone in a small courtyard, appeared on the large plasma.

"I thought I said telescopic lens," Gibbs growled.

"There are more photos," she replied.

The next photo appeared with a much closer perspective than the first but the prisoner was facing away from the camera. Gibbs muttered under his breath until the third photo appeared and this time the camera had captured him front on.

"Hold it there," Gibbs instructed, "let's see the shot of Khalil."

The two photos appeared side by side. "Looks like Asif Javed _is_ Mehmood Khalil," Fornell said.

"Ziva!" Gibbs called.

"Email the file to Abby and ask her for confirmation by facial recognition program," Ziva replied anticipating the order before it was given.

"Tobias!"

"Call my contact at Homeland Security and see if there's anyway Brady could have known that Khalil was already in custody," Fornell answered, ruing the moment he'd left his beloved Harley Davidson in pieces on his living room floor.

Ziva looked alarmed. "If Brady knew that Khalil was in custody why would he withhold that information?"

"That's what we need to find out. I'll be in Abby's lab," Gibbs advised as he made his way to the elevator.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

For several minutes after the gunshot, Tony felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. His heart pounded heavily against his sternum and he hoped like hell that McGee had heeded his orders, cut himself free and got away. His gut clenched painfully and while he hoped for the best, a small part of him expected the worst.

"You were warned, funny man," Saleem said smugly. "The blood of your partner is on your hands. Get the hard drive, now!"

Tony kept a tenuous hold on his emotions and stifled a snort of disgust as Shoaib stepped between them and shoved Tony towards the trees to continue his search. He scanned the floor of the forest, awash in the torrent of his grief and his desire for revenge.

The throbbing pain in his head made it difficult to concentrate but Tony knew one thing for sure - outnumbered three to one, the chances of him making it out alive were minimal but if this was where his life had to end, he was determined to go out fighting.

It took another 5 minutes before he found what he was looking for - a small mound of fresh soil where he'd hastily buried the item a few hours ago. He pointed to the mound and raised an eyebrow to Saleem.

"Get it!" Saleem demanded. "Very carefully."

Tony nodded sullenly and his eyes burned with hate as he crouched on his haunches to uncover the buried item. Using a small stick, he began to dig a hole, moving the last of the soil with his hands. He felt the cold metal beneath his fingers and realised that it was now or never. He wrapped his hand around the item, closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply through his mouth.

A familiar beeping sounded from the woods five yards to his left, startling everyone and causing all three terrorists to commence firing in that direction. Tony's fingers closed around the handgun that he'd buried a few hours ago and he dived to his right as he drew it from the hole. He hit Zaheer high in the chest with two quick rounds and as he turned toward the remaining terrorists, shots fired from the woods and Shoaib went down and stayed down.

Tony rolled to his feet with his gun trained on Saleem and as his vision cleared, he became aware that he was staring down the barrel of the terrorist's handgun.

"Drop your weapon, Saleem," McGee's voice sounded from the woods.

Tony could barely contain his relief as he heard his partner's voice.

"I do not think so," Saleem said.

"Two against one, Sal," Tony said. "Either way, you die. I'd do as he says."

"I can still kill you," he hissed, tightening his finger on the trigger.

"But you'd have no time to enjoy it before my partner put a bullet in your head."

"My death will only serve to further our cause," Saleem sneered arrogantly.

"Hey, that's kinda ironic, Sal, because your death will further our cause too," Tony's voice suddenly hardened in a menacing tone. "Drop the weapon."

Several more tension filled moments passed before Saleem dropped his weapon. McGee moved from the woods to the clearing and cuffed Saleem's hands behind his back, while Tony checked the condition of the other two terrorists.

"This one's dead, the other one's not far behind," Tony said, removing the spare ammo clips from their pockets and placing them in his own.

"You know, that standoff kinda reminded me of a scene from the great Spaghetti Western, 'The Good, The Bad and the Ugly'," Tony said before whistling the famous theme. "But in this case, Sal, you could be the bad _and_ the ugly."

Still covering the now handcuffed Saleem with his gun, McGee came to stand by Tony's side.

"We're gonna need something to keep him quiet," Tony said.

"I thought of that," McGee said, digging into one of the backpacks. "I saw this in the basement, thought it might come in handy."

McGee extracted a roll of duct tape from his bag and ripped off a six-inch piece, placing it firmly across Saleem's mouth. He looked worriedly at his partner as Tony rubbed at his temples to reduce the throbbing in his head.

"You okay, Tony?" he asked.

"I'm good," Tony lied and then clapped McGee on the back. "It's not that I'm unhappy to see you, Probie, but how the hell did you get away from Anwar?"

"You should have seen me, Tony. I did everything exactly like Ziva showed me," McGee explained proudly.

"You killed him??" Tony asked.

"Okay…so, not _exactly_ like she showed me…but it worked and Anwar's all tied up in the basement."

"Good job, Probie, let's get moving!"

"Wait, what do you want to do with him?" McGee said, nodding at Saleem.

"He's number two on the NCIS hit parade, McGoo, and we didn't even know he'd slipped into the country. We're taking him with us," Tony replied before turning to hiss in Saleem's ear. "If you give us any trouble, Sal, you'll be number two with a bullet. Capisce?"

He shoved Saleem in the direction of the car and they started out of the woods.

"Oh, Tony, wait!" McGee said suddenly as he turned and ran back into the woods.

Tony looked puzzled as he heard McGee's mournful groan. "Probie?"

McGee walked back into the clearing holding his beloved PDA. He'd placed it on a tree stump and used its alarm as a decoy to distract the terrorists. He grimaced sadly and held it up revealing a bullet hole right through the middle of the irreparably damaged device.

"Sorry, man," Tony said, not even trying to hide his smile.

"You're not sorry," McGee countered morosely.

"Nope. Not even a little bit, you drove me nuts with that thing," Tony replied. "Come on, Probie, I need you to take him as far as the tree line and wait for me. Keep a sharp look out and if he tries anything – kill him."

"Hey, where are you going?" McGee asked.

"To get the hard drive, it's about 100 yards from here," Tony explained. "Watch him closely, I'll meet you at the tree line and then we'll get to the car."

Tony dashed back into the forest while McGee pressed his Sig firmly into Saleem's back and walked to the edge of the tree line. The sky was just beginning to lighten far to the east with thin pink and orange ribbons announcing the dawn of a new day. McGee forced Saleem to lie face down on the ground and he donned the night vision goggles, scanning for "un-friendlies." To his relief, there was no sign of anyone but he jumped slightly as Tony unexpectedly returned and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Anything?" Tony asked.

"Nothing, no sign of anyone," McGee replied. "You were fast."

"Fear is always a good motivator, Probie. Pass me a back pack," Tony said and then shoved the hard drive into the large opening.

"If we could find the Sat phone we could call for help."

"Call who, Probie? I've a feeling that the guy on the end of that phone is the same guy we have to thank for this mess."

"We don't know that for sure, Tony. Like you said, maybe we tripped an auxiliary alarm we weren't told about or maybe Khalil had someone watching his house. What about Vance? Surely you don't think he's in on this?"

"Maybe, I don't know."

"I can't believe that Vance would set me up," McGee said frowning deeply. "You maybe, but not me."

"Nice," Tony said smiling wanly.

"I think we should check out the safe house," McGee said. "It will have additional ammo, a secured phone line, food and it's only an hour's drive from here. It will give us a place to hole up until we can contact Brady."

"It's the contacting Brady part that worries me."

"Think about it, Tony, what possible reason could Brady and Vance have to set us up? They're desperate to get the information on this hard drive. What proof have you got?"

"Just my gut, McGoo."

"You're not Gibbs, Tony."

"So you've said…again and again…. Okay, McGee, we'll do it your way _but_ we'll buy a prepaid cell on the way to the safe house just in case. We need some cash, you got any?"

"Nothing. We left our wallets and our ID's at the office, remember?"

Tony looked at Saleem who was still lying prone on the ground. He patted him down again, finding a wallet in his back pocket, flipped it open and looked at the forged drivers licence.

"Ashin Sohail…nice likeness," he said to Saleem as he withdrew two twenty-dollar bills. "Don't worry, Sal, send me an invoice and I'll see to it that you get reimbursed."

Tony looked to McGee, "That enough to buy a prepaid cell?"

McGee's lips curled in disgust and he huffed out a humourless laugh, "A cheap one maybe. But it won't have bluetooth, video capture capability or other features like 3G, Wi-Fi and GPS and it probably won't have anywhere near 8GB of internal storage."

"Probie, I don't know what you just said and I don't care," Tony said tensely. "All we need is for it to make and receive calls…of course Tetris would be good."

"It will make and receive calls if we have enough reception."

"Good enough."

"Are you going to call the Boss?"

Tony sighed audibly. "He doesn't get back from Parris Island until later today, besides, if Vance _is_ in on this, he knows that we'd call Gibbs or Ziva. He'd be monitoring their calls. He's probably also monitoring Abby and Ducky's calls."

"So what do we do?"

"First, we buy an untraceable cell phone and then we'll decide who to call," Tony replied. "On your feet, Sal, we're going for a drive."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs walked determinedly into Abby's lab and did a quick double take when he thought he saw the Director's right leg jigging to the beat of the music. By the time he looked back Vance was completely still, with the exception of his hands that were quickly and deftly moving around the computer keyboard. He walked to Abby's sound system and turned the sound down.

"Hey, I was listening to that!" Abby and Vance said simultaneously.

Gibbs shook his head and placed a Caff-Pow next to Abby's computer.

"You making any progress?" he asked.

"We've successfully sourced the encrypted file from one of the DOD servers," Vance told him. "We're almost into the 'secret' file on the second server that contains the decryption code."

"How long?"

"Maybe another two hours," Abby replied. "The Director has mad computer skills. Wait until I tell McGee what he missed. He will totally flip!"

"Gotta find him first, Abs," Gibbs replied.

"I have two Navy choppers on standby in case we need them," Vance said. "How's it going upstairs?"

"We're still processing the list of possible locations of Khalil's property," Gibbs said. "We've narrowed the list from 49 to 25," Gibbs replied. "Ziva and I will keep on it but it's a long shot."

"What about Brady, can we locate him?" he asked.

"Looks like he's at his office in the Pentagon. We can't get to him there but Ziva's monitoring the LoJack in his car in case he leaves."

"He's been ignoring my calls, so he knows we're on to him. My guess is that he's there _because _he knows we can't get to him," Vance growled.

"Agent Lucas at Gitmo sent a photo of the detainee the CIA have had stashed in solitary confinement for the last two weeks. He's registered as Asif Javed but he could be Khalil's double."

"Facial recognition?"

"Ziva just sent the photos to Abby by email. Need ya to take a look, Abs." Gibbs said.

Abby looked at the Director who nodded and she walked to her laptop to open the email and start the Facial Recognition Program.

"How long will this take?" Gibbs asked anxiously.

"Not long at all 'cause we have a photo to compare it with," Abby explained. "If it doesn't match the photo of Khalil, we will have to run through the entire database and that could take days."

"There's something else," Gibbs said. "If this is Khalil, I think Brady knew he was already in custody when he set this whole assignment up."

Vance and Abby looked at Gibbs with stunned expressions, the Director recovering first.

"What proof have you got?"

"Just my gut," Gibbs replied.

"I'm gonna need a lot more than your gut before I can take this higher," Vance said.

"I'm working on it," Gibbs replied curtly and turned toward the stairs when the soft beeping of Abby's computer stopped him in his tracks.

"Abs?"

Abby typed a few commands on her keyboard and spun around quickly to face the two agents.

"It's him," she nodded emphatically. "That's definitely Mehmood Khalil that the CIA is holding in Gitmo."

Gibbs and Vance exchanged furious glances.

"I'll set up a conference call with the Director of the CIA in MTAC," Vance said reaching for the nearest desk phone. "I'll let you know when we have him on the line."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

They made it back to the car without further incident and Tony slipped behind the wheel while McGee took the rear passenger seat and pushed Saleem into the seat beside him. With his hands cuffed behind his back and duct tape across his mouth, Saleem posed no immediate threat but McGee took no chances and kept his Sig aimed at the terrorist.

Tony drove toward town, stopping in the parking lot of what looked like a combined roadside diner and general store.

"You think they have cell phones?" McGee asked.

"One way to find out," Tony replied shutting off the engine as he turned to McGee. "You got him?"

McGee nodded and nudged the terrorist with the barrel of his Sig. "He's not going anywhere, are ya Sal?"

Tony nodded, closed the door behind him and jogged across the parking lot into the diner.

He returned about 10 minutes later, carrying a bag of assorted items. As he opened the car door and resumed his seat, the aroma of freshly cooked bacon wafted back to McGee and immediately caused a loud rumble from his stomach.

"Didn't have quite enough cash for the cell, McGoo, but the waitress took pity on me and let me have it for forty bucks," Tony said, waggling the cheap, plastic looking cell at McGee. "Even swapped the battery for her fully charged one, so we're good to go!"

"Great!" McGee managed to say, the smell of bacon causing his mouth to salivate madly. "What's in the bag?"

"Breakfast, Probie, two bacon and egg rolls with a side of extra bacon," Tony said handing one roll to McGee who took it eagerly and begun to unwrap it without looking away from Saleem for a second. "Sorry, Sal, only the good guys eat breakfast today."

Tony flipped the lid of a small Styrofoam container revealing four extra pieces of bacon and he placed it between them. They ate with gusto, filling the car with soft moans of pleasure as they satisfied their hunger.

Resting his half eaten roll on the dashboard, Tony opened the back of the cell and placed the prepaid SIM card inside. McGee greedily eyed the remaining two pieces of bacon in the container and despite having already eaten two, he cautiously reached for a third when, Tony slammed the lid of the container.

"Do it and lose a finger, McShifty," he said without even turning his head in McGee's direction.

"Hey," McGee said suddenly, "if you didn't even have enough money for the cell phone, how'd you end up with breakfast as well?"

Tony gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders before flashing his charming grin.

"I smiled," he said still fiddling with the cell phone.

McGee shook his head in bemused admiration. Even looking like he just stepped out of a bar fight with a bruised face, a split to his lip and with his clothes reeking from a mixture of sweat and the residual of the concussion grenade – Tony still managed to charm the waitress into a discount on the cell, her own fully charged cell battery and a free breakfast.

"I'm not getting any signal," Tony said disturbing McGee from his thoughts.

"Try walking around outside."

Tony stepped out of the car and set off walking around the parking lot, finally finding a spot where the display indicated a strong signal. He hesitated, fingers hovering over the keypad for several seconds as his stomach tightened painfully. The bacon and egg roll in his stomach protested and he had to swallow hard to prevent losing his hastily eaten breakfast.

What would be the consequences of making this call? Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he waged an battle with his inner voice, ashamed of the doubt that clawed its way into his thoughts. Snapping the cell closed, he shoved it into his pocket and returned to the car.

"That was fast," McGee said.

"Not enough reception," Tony replied quickly.

"Maybe if you walked to the top of that hill over there-"

"And maybe if I jogged back to Washington we wouldn't need the freakin phone, McGee!" Tony snapped uncharacteristically.

"Tony…something on your mind you want to tell me about?" McGee asked calmly.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took several deep breaths. The tension, exhaustion and confusion of the past eight hours had settled painfully in the taut muscles across his shoulders and neck.

"Sorry, Probie, all these unanswered questions are making me crazy," he replied. "We'll head for the safe house. If it looks quiet, we'll make the call from there and lay low until the cavalry arrives."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**Thank you, so much, for reading and for your kind reviews, L**


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended. **

**Chapter 9**

Tony pulled the SUV to the shoulder of the road, four hundred yards away from a private access road leading to the safe house.

"Is that it?" McGee asked.

"That's it," Tony replied.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Because I want to check it out before we go waltzing in there, Probie, that's why!" Tony said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"I thought I'd convinced you that the assignment was legit?"

"You convinced me to come to the safe house – the jury's still out on the other," Tony said, checking his weapon and climbing from the car. "Sit tight and stay sharp, I'll be right back."

Rolling his eyes heavenward at Tony's overcautious attitude, McGee watched as Tony jogged a short distance down the road, covering the ground in easy loping strides. He jumped a two rail fence and took a short cut across a grassy field, until he disappeared from McGee's view, around the back of the safe house.

Tony noted with considerable relief that there was no road access to the rear of the property. The house was situated on a small rise, affording very good visibility of the only access road to the front of the property.

The schematics he had studied in MTAC had indicated that the house did not have a security system, but Tony quickly checked the electrical box and the doors and windows, just to be sure. When he had satisfied himself that the coast was clear, he deftly picked the lock of the rear door and searched each room thoroughly before heading back to the car.

McGee alternated between watching the gagged and handcuffed terrorist and keeping watch for Tony. Fifteen minutes passed until Tony appeared again, casually jogging across the field and back to the car. He opened the door, slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

"All clear," he said as he caught McGee's exasperated expression in the rear view mirror. He drove to the four hundred yards to the private access road and another five hundred yards to the safe house, parking the car at the back of the house.

"Wouldn't it be better to park the car in the garage, out of sight?" McGee suggested.

"That would make it harder for us to get to, McGee. I want it right here where we have easy access if we need it."

Climbing from the car again, Tony hauled open the back driver's side door causing Saleem to stumble from the SUV.

"Sorry about that," he lied, as he guided the terrorist around the back of the vehicle and followed McGee into the house.

McGee was standing in the middle of the spacious living room with a huge comfortable looking couch and a large flat screen television.

"I didn't see a dish. Please, tell me they have cable?" Tony said.

"Hey, this is pretty nice," McGee exclaimed.

"Our tax dollars, hard at work, Probie," Tony replied. "Make yourself comfortable, Sal."

As the man started to seat himself on the couch, Tony lifted him roughly back to his feet.

"Uh uh, not there," he said, pushing firmly on Saleem's shoulder and nudging the man at the back of one knee, causing him to lower himself to the floor in the middle of the large room. Seated away from the furniture, any movements the terrorist made would be easily seen.

McGee returned from his quick tour of the house, his brow furrowed in concern.

'Probie?"

"There's no phone line, you know what that means?"

"You mean, apart from no cable TV?"

"Yes, Tony, apart from that!" McGee said curtly. "I couldn't find a Sat phone and there's no secured line. How were we supposed to contact them?"

"Maybe we aren't."

"Don't start that again, Tony, I know it looks bad but we have no proof that this assignment was a set-up," McGee argued. "I refuse to believe it until I have confirmation more definitive than your gut!"

"What about the fact that the safe house doesn't have the SOP emergency provisions?"

McGee looked thoughtful for a moment, he desperately wanted to believe in his superiors and couldn't bear the thought that his first assignment was a set-up.

"We both know that this assignment was last minute - maybe it was a simple oversight."

"Not simple, Probie, definitely not simple."

"We have the cell phone," he said, "if you're worried about Brady, why don't we just call Vance?"

"No, not until I'm sure we can trust him," Tony replied.

"Well, if you're worried about staying here, we could always drive back to DC," McGee said.

"We're low on gas and have no money - we wouldn't get 30 miles," Tony told him.

"Come on, Tony, work with me here! You won't call the Boss, Ziva, Ducky or Abby because you think their phones are being monitored, you don't want to stay here and you don't want to drive back to DC," McGee said, exasperated by his partner's stubbornness. "What the hell do you want to do?"

Tony removed the cell phone from his pocket and walked toward the back door.

"Keep an eye on Sal, I'll be back in a minute."

"Wait, who ya gonna call – and don't even think about saying Ghostbusters," he said with a knowing roll of his eyes.

Tony pursed his lips briefly before answering.

"Someone who has access to Gibbs but wouldn't be on Brady's or Vance's radar."

"Can you trust this person?"

"Implicitly," Tony replied. "Don't worry, Probie, he won't let us down."

**--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

The cell phone signal was infinitely stronger outside the house and Tony walked around the yard trying to work off some pent up tension. He found a position among the trees that afforded him cover and also gave him a view to the front and the back of the property – just in case they had uninvited guests.

Despite McGee's avid belief that their assignment was legitimate, Tony wasn't convinced - his instincts and his gut told him otherwise. He fought his own demons and decided to make the call. He scrunched his handsome features in thought as he tried to remember the phone number and dialled, willing the owner to pick up quickly.

The call was answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Black Lung…don't say my name – do you know who this is?"

"Yes, yes I know who you are," Jimmy replied.

"Then you know we're in trouble."

"Yes."

"We need your help, Black Lung, but you can't tell anyone you've spoken to me," Tony continued. "We think there's a leak within our agency."

"I understand," Jimmy said, feeling his skin turn to gooseflesh as he looked around warily. "What can I do?"

"I need you to buy an untraceable cell and get it to the Snowman when he returns to the office later today."

"Agent Frost?" Jimmy asked.

"_No, not Frosty, the other Snowman_!"

Jimmy frowned in confusion. "Snowman…Snowman, _right, Snowman!" _he said as realisation struck. "The Snowman is already here, he and Widow Woman returned last night. He's already looking for you, everyone is."

Tony's mind filled with rampant thoughts of confusion and relief. He wondered why Gibbs was back so soon and simultaneously thanked God that he had returned earlier than expected.

"Listen to me, this is very important," Tony stressed. "Some of those looking for us may be trying to kill us. The phones may be be monitored so I need you to buy a burn phone and get it to the Snowman. Tell him to call Bandit on the number I phoned you on. Make sure he's alone and don't tell anyone you've spoken to me – not Rubber Duck, not Dark Angel and _especially_ not Toothpick. Our lives depend on this, Black Lung - can we count on you?"

"Yes, of course," Jimmy replied. "I'll do it right away. Are you and Spider Mike okay?"

"For the moment but we're up to our necks in some serious crap," Tony replied. "I need you to get that phone to Snowman, ASAP."

"On my way," Jimmy replied. "Be careful, Bandit."

"Always," Tony said as he ended the call.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs felt every strain and every ache of his tension filled muscles as he strode back into the bullpen where Fornell and Ziva were seated around the computer at Ziva's desk.

"Facial recognition has confirmed that the CIA is holding Mehmood Khalil in Gitmo," Gibbs told them. "Vance is setting up an urgent conference call with CIA Director Hamlyn, to find out why the hell we weren't told. You got anything on Khalil's property?"

"We are still running the online searches," Ziva replied, her frustration evident in her voice. "It is painstakingly slow."

"Ya think?" Gibbs stated. "Tobias, you get anything from your Homeland Security contacts?"

"Nothing concrete," Fornell said. "As you know, the CIA, FBI and a number of other intelligence agencies, all report to the Director of National Security, who reports directly to the President. NCIS and all other military intelligence or investigative agencies, report to the Secretary of Defence via the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence," Fornell explained. "There's talk that there is considerable pressure to dissolve the Under Secretary's position."

"So, you think this whole assignment was staged to gather intelligence, so that the Under Secretary would receive credit and keep his job?" Gibbs asked furiously.

"Wouldn't be the first time an agency got caught up in a political pissing contest," Fornell replied.

The elevator's soft ding sounded and Ducky walked over to the group laden with more coffee and sandwiches.

"I do wish there was something more I could be doing, other than following Jethro's well-worn path from here to the coffee shop," he said. "Although, I am getting to know the attractive lady proprietor very well."

"Her name's Sonia, she's 42 years old, divorced, has two kids at college and a cocker spaniel named Ebony. She likes to go to the theatre and loves Italian food," Gibbs said.

Ducky raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I should have known you'd have already "scoped out" the attractive local women, Jethro."

"I'm a regular," Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly, "and she's a redhead."

He took his coffee in one hand and placed the other on Ducky's shoulder. "You should go home and rest, Duck. We'll let you know when there's any news."

"If it's all the same to you, Jethro," the doctor replied adamantly, "young Mr Palmer and I intend to stay right here until we know that Anthony and Timothy are safely on their way back to us. By the way…has anyone seen Mr Palmer recently? I appear to have misplaced him, yet again."

"He'll turn up, Duck, he's probably with Abby," Gibbs said turning on his heel and heading down the corridor.

"Where are you going?" Fornell asked. "We could use your help with the online searches."

"That was my eleventh cup of coffee, Tobias, where do you think I'm going?" Gibbs replied before continuing toward the men's room.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Jimmy paced anxiously in the men's room and placed his hand to the burn cellphone in his jacket pocket to ensure it was still there.

'_Come on! What's taking so long!_' he thought impatiently. He needed to speak with Gibbs privately and had been waiting in the mens room, knowing that the vast quantity of coffee Gibbs consumed would lead him here eventually.

Although he had been expecting it, when the door finally swung open and Gibbs strode in headed for the urinal, his excess nervous tension caused him to jump.

"Agent Gibbs," Jimmy said. "I've been waiting for you."

Gibbs stood stock still and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Not exactly what you want to hear from another man when you're in the head, Palmer?"

Palmer's eyes opened wide.

"Oh, no, Sir…I mean…Agent Gibbs, it's not like that…I have something extremely important to tell you."

Rezipping, Gibbs walked to the basin and washed his hands before turning back to Palmer.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"Well, Sir…."

The door swung open again and Agent Donnelly nodded to both men as he made his way to a cubicle and closed the door. Palmer's stomach lurched as he realised the moment of privacy and the opportunity to give Gibbs the cellphone was lost.

"Palmer?"

"Oh, right…I er…wanted to say that…er…I think this new brand of paper towels is of inferior quality and could cause chaffing to the hands," he said, wincing internally at the look of disbelief on Gibbs' face. "I intend to start a petition for better quality hand towels and take it to the head janitor."

Jimmy felt the heat of the blush as it rose quickly up his neck to the tips of his ears. He tried valiantly not to cringe as Gibbs' icy blue eyes appraised him like he was a mad man.

"Good luck with that, Palmer," Gibbs replied flatly as he turned on his heel and left the mens room shaking his head.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Vance and Gibbs waited impatiently as the angry face of CIA Director, Oliver Hamlyn, appeared on the large screen in MTAC.

"Director Vance and Special Agent Gibbs," came Hamlyn's clearly unimpressed voice. "What can I do for NCIS at this ungodly hour of the morning?"

"We need to know why the CIA has Mehmood Khalil detained in Gitmo under a false name." Vance snapped.

"So much for pleasantries," Hamlyn replied dryly. "Looks like I'll have to re-read the CIA purview, Leon. I must have skipped the part that said I report directly to you."

"While you're reviewing your purview, Director, you may want to re-read the section on inter-agency cooperation, although I realise the concept is completely foreign to the CIA."

"You have been misinformed, Leon. We reported Khalil's internment through the proper channels two weeks ago," Hamlyn replied smugly. "Looks like, it's _your _superiors who've left you out of the loop, not us."

Vance's calm exterior belied his anger as he bristled at the truth of the remark.

"Director Hamlyn, if the CIA had already passed the details of Khalil's capture through the proper channels, why was it necessary to have Khalil registered and detained under a false name?" Gibbs asked.

"It was imperative that the members of his sleeper cell, believed that Khalil was still in Afghanistan," Director Hamlyn advised. "You know as well as I do that there are any number of translators, Amnesty International or legal representatives at Gitmo who could leak that information before we were ready to-"

"Ready to what, Director? The CIA wasn't planning a strike on US soil to neutralise the terrorist cell, was it?" Vance asked. "Because that would definitely be out of your jurisdiction – although, I'm sure the existence of a HuM cell in Virginia – right in your own backyard – is just cause for embarrassment."

Hamlyn remained silent but his body language shouted that the CIA was planning to do just that – jurisdiction or no jurisdiction.

"Director, two of my agents were sent to Khalil's home last evening, to obtain details of an email communication containing details of a terrorist strike," Gibbs said. "They are currently overdue. Are you aware of the existence of this information?"

A long pause ensued as Director Hamlyn appeared to struggle with his composure and Gibbs felt his blood run cold.

"The CIA retrieved that email communication from Khalil's computer two weeks ago," Hamlyn hissed. "If your people have been captured, any _hypothetical _operation that the CIA was, or was not, planning would now have to be aborted. Once the members of the cell know they have been compromised by a US Government agency, they will split up, go to ground and regroup in a different location."

"With all due respect, Director, I'm more concerned about locating my agents right now," Vance said.

"All I can tell you is that the CIA received intel regarding the possible activation of Khalil's sleeper cell," Hamlyn said. "We located and detained Khalil in Afghanistan and started monitoring activity within the cell. We found that the cell was far larger and much more of a threat than we were initially led to believe."

"The cell's fully functional and you kept that information to yourselves?" Gibbs hissed, an icy feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. "Will you tell us the address of Khalil's property?"

"I've already told you more than I should. You want more information, I suggest you utilise your own damn chain of command and have them read you in," Hamlyn snarled. "Make no mistake, Director, these are very dangerous men. If your agents have been discovered, your rescue operation could be a body recovery."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A shorter, slower chapter today, so take a breath because we crank the action up again tomorrow. Many thanks for reading, L**


	10. Chapter 10

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 10**

After a quick external check of the property, Tony walked to the SUV and started the engine. He reversed it to within four feet of the back entrance to the house and opened the rear hatch. Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his handcuffs and attached one cuff to the back of the rear seat, leaving the other open and dangling – ready to secure the terrorist in case they required a quick exit.

Walking back into the house he saw that McGee had bound Saleem's feet together with duct tape. He took his knife and gave the terrorist a hard and intimidating stare before slicing through the tape and freeing his legs.

"Tony? What are you doing?" McGee asked.

"Untying his legs."

"Why?"

"If we get visitors, McGee, we'll have to move fast – you gonna carry him to the car?"

McGee nodded his head, conceding the point.

"Didn't think of that," he said. "Did you make the call?"

"Yep, now we just have to wait for Gibbs to get the message and call us back," Tony replied.

"Gibbs? Gibbs isn't even back in DC, why didn't you call Vance?"

"_Because I don't know who to trust anymore, McGee! Are you happy now?"_ Tony yelled in frustration. _"Gibbs is back in DC and he'll get my message. If he trusts Vance, he'll tell him, if not – he'll get us out some other way."_

Tony breathed deeply to release his tension as McGee watched with concern.

"You really think we've been set-up?"

"You know, McGee, it really doesn't matter what I think or what I feel or what I suspect - you've made that very clear," Tony said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands and suddenly sounding very tired. " But think about this – if this isn't a set-up, where is everyone? We are carrying, crucial information needed to stop a terrorist attack on US soil – where's our back-up, our secured phone line, our extra ammo, our way home? _Where the hell did everybody go?" _

"I'm not saying you're wrong, Tony, I'm just saying that we don't know for sure."

"Okay, Probie, how about this - we'll compromise. We take precautions and make plans as if we expect the safe house to be hit. If you're right and the good guys arrive to save the day – no harm, no foul. If I'm right, then at least we'll be ready. Deal?"

"Deal! How do you want to prepare?" McGee asked.

"We do perimeter checks and keep watch. If the bad guys come calling, you grab Saleem and throw him into the back of the SUV and hook the handcuffs he's wearing into the handcuffs I put in there earlier," Tony said. "Then put your head down and drive like hell."

"What about you?"

"I've found a spot at the side of the house that'll give me a good angle on anyone coming in from the front," Tony explained. "They'll be concentrating on the car, they won't be expecting me to be on foot. I'll take out as many as I can, cross the field diagonally and I'll beat you to the road."

"What if I get there before you?"

"Then you keep driving until you're sure they're not following you and you use the cell to get a message to Gibbs to come and get you."

"Tony," he said with complete sincerity. "I won't leave you behind. I'll wait until you come."

"If you get to the road before me, Probie…I won't be coming."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Ziva slammed her hands, palms down onto the desk.

"This is so damn frustrating!" she snapped before rising to her feet and beginning to pace anxiously.

Fornell looked up from where he was continuing with the online search.

"Tell me about it," he lamented. "I left the love of my life in pieces on the living room floor to come here, last night."

Ziva huffed out a laugh. "You men are all the same," she admonished. "Why is it that you must delude yourself by thinking that the minute you are away from your woman, she falls to pieces on the living room floor."

"I'm talking about my Harley, Officer David," he replied.

"It does not matter to me what her name is, Agent Fornell, I am merely stating that women of today are emotionally strong and financially independent and do not suffer break downs just because they are separated from their men for a few hours."

"My Harley is a bike!"

Ziva pierced him with a murderous look as her voice rose with exasperation.

"What _is_ it with you men!" she exclaimed. "If a woman does not put up –"

"Put out," he corrected.

"If a woman does not put out, she is a tease yet if she does put out she is a bike!"

"You don't understand; my Harley Davidson _really_ is a bike."

"I do not know your Miss Davidson, Agent Fornell, but if I ever hear you refer to her or any other woman in such an uncomplimentary manner, I will make you eat your words."

The soft beeping of Ziva's computer saved Fornell before he could dig himself any deeper. She quickly walked back to her computer.

"It is the LoJack transmitter in Brady's car," she said. "Looks like he is heading in the direction of his home."

"Gibbs is still in MTAC," Fornell said.

"I will have Abby monitor the signal and I will intercept Brady at his apartment and bring him in for questioning," she said collecting her weapons and ID from her desk drawer.

"Not without back-up," Fornell said, as he quickly checked his own weapon and followed her to the elevator.

At Ziva's request, Abby continued to monitor the progress of Brady's car as it continued in the direction of his Georgetown apartment. With Fornell riding shotgun, Ziva negotiated the early morning traffic in her usual speedy and reckless manner, heading for Brady's apartment.

Having spent the last 20 minutes continually slamming his foot on the imaginary passenger side brake pedal and hanging on for dear life, Fornell was relieved when they arrived in one piece and parked outside Brady's apartment building. He was equally impressed that he was able to break the death grip of both hands and relax his painfully clenched butt without losing his cool façade.

After locating Brady's car in his designated parking spot, Fornell and Ziva advised Abby of their arrival and confirmed with the doorman that Brady had entered his apartment. According to the doorman, Brady was leaving again shortly to catch a flight. Fifteen minutes later, Jason Brady appeared, carrying an overladen suitcase and looking agitated and tense. He froze at the sight of the unknown man leaning casually against the hood of his car.

"Jason Brady?" Fornell asked as he flashed his identification. "Agent Tobias Fornell, FBI."

Brady's eyes raked over Fornell as he calculated his chances of out-running the older man.

"If you're wondering whether you could outrun me, my guess is that you could," Fornell told him with a shrug, "but before you try you should know, the Mossad Officer standing behind you, is just aching for an opportunity to break you in half."

Brady's gaze flicked from Fornell to Ziva before finally he sighed in resignation and allowed himself to be handcuffed and guided into the back of the NCIS vehicle.

**--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

"Perimeter's secure," McGee told Tony walking back into the living room where Tony had been watching the access road and keeping on eye on their resident terrorist.  
"I found a jar of coffee in the cupboard, you want some?"

"Coffee's good," Tony replied. "Any bottled water?"

McGee grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and tossed it to Tony who stood in front of the terrorist.

"What about it, Sal, you thirsty?" Tony asked, carefully kneeling next to the man and ripping the duct tape from his mouth none too gently. He held the bottle to Saleem's mouth and allowed him to drink.

"Looks like the duct tape is causing a little chaffing," Tony said. "But you're in luck – McGee, here, can refer you to his dermatologist. He's great with dry skin and will clear that chaffing right up!"

"It will not help to take me with you," Saleem said. "You only succeed in making yourselves a target. My people will find you and kill you."

Tony snorted at the threat and chose to ignore it as he held the bottle to Saleem's mouth again. "Drink up, can't have you dying of thirst in our custody."

Saleem's eyes were dark with malice. "I am not afraid to die for my cause."

"Re-ally?" Tony drawled. "That's not how it looked back there in the woods, Sal. If memory serves you dropped your weapon pretty quickly – cause or no cause."

"You know nothing about our cause," Saleem spat. "You are a stupid, ignorant sonofabitch!"

"And you're a vile, murdering, sanctimonious bastard," Tony replied with a shrug. "If this is a name calling competition, Sal, you're gonna have to do better than that."

"You and your friend will soon be dead and there is nothing you can do to change that."

"Maybe, but in the meantime, I can do this!" Tony said nonchalantly as he placed another strip of duct tape over Saleem's mouth and walked back to continue watching the access road.

McGee handed him a mug of coffee and stood at his side offering silent support.

"So, Probie…I've been thinking," Tony began, hissing as the hot beverage stung the split on his lower lip.

"Really, Tony? How'd that go?"

Tony chucked softly at the light-hearted jibe, "Turns out you were right."

"Yeah? 'Bout what?"

"Remember back in Khalil's basement, when I said this day couldn't get any worse? Well, apparently, it can."

"Gibbs will call soon and before we know it, things will be back to normal and you'll be making my life a living hell."

"You're right, Probie…there's always that to look forward to."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Jimmy was getting desperate. He knew that every minute's delay placed Tony and McGee in greater jeopardy but he just hadn't been able to get Gibbs alone so that he could give him the phone as Tony had asked.

He felt his face pink up again as he thought of the disastrous men's room fiasco. _'Inferior quality paper towels,_' he thought rolling his eyes at the memory of his own words. _'Nice one, Palmer, now Agent Gibbs thinks you're a total moron.' _

He knew Gibbs was with Vance in Abby's lab and he sat in the deserted stairwell with his eyes glued to the sliding glass doors, desperately hoping that Gibbs would come out soon so that he could pass on Tony's message. Finally, the doors opened and Gibbs headed to the elevator.

Jimmy was on his feet and running up the stairs to the next level in an instant. As he rounded the corner to the elevator he heard the 'ding' announcing the arrival of the car and as the doors opened to reveal Gibbs alone inside, Jimmy was almost overwhelmed with relief. He stepped inside and received a perfunctory nod from the agent. As Jimmy turned to face the closing doors, the sound of running footsteps and a young female voice rang out.

"Hold the elevator, please!"

Gibbs reached forward to stop the doors from closing just as a young woman, from the secretarial pool arrived, laden with files. Jimmy's heart skipped several beats as he realised that he was about to lose another opportunity to speak with Gibbs alone. He couldn't let this happen - Tony was counting on him.

"No!" he exclaimed, knocking Gibbs' arm away from the closing doors and watching the facial expression of the young secretary change from a grateful smile to a look of irritation.

"Sorry," Jimmy grimaced, "get the next one, this one's full."

He felt the elevator start to ascend and the world lifted from his shoulders as he realised he'd achieved his objective. He reached to press the emergency stop button and the car came to a shuddering halt. In the muted light, Jimmy turned to face Gibbs.

"What the _hell_ was that about, Palmer?" he snapped.

Jimmy closed his eyes on a sigh and took a deep breath.

"Agent Gibbs, I need to speak with you privately," he said. "You have no idea how long I've waited to get you alone. There was a reason I was waiting for you in the men's room and I can't put this off any longer."

The statement set every fibre of Gibbs' heterosexuality on alert, his jaw tightened and fingers curled into fists of their own volition. Just as quickly, he dismissed the thought as ridiculous.

"Look, Palmer, if this is about your paper towel petition…"

"No, Sir,…sorry, Agent Gibbs, it's not about the paper towels," Jimmy said then lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's about Bandit and Spider Mike."

Gibbs snapped to attention. "What about them?"

Palmer placed his hand in his pocket and withdrew a cell phone.

"The Bandit called me two hours ago," Jimmy explained. "He said there's a leak in our agency and we're to trust nobody. He asked me to give you this untraceable cell and tell you that you need to call him. I programmed his number as speed dial one."

As Gibbs started to call the number he asked, "Are they alright, did they tell you where they were?"

"He said they were up to their necks in cra…trouble but they were okay for the moment. He didn't tell me where they were."

"Good job, Palmer," Gibbs said listening as the cell started to ring. "This is the break we've been waiting for."

"That's a big 10-4, Snowman, I mean, certainly, Sir… er...Agent Gibbs." Palmer replied with a huge sigh of relief.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Tony paced the living room like a caged lion, willing the cell phone to ring. His body was tense and ready for action and he never took his eyes of the access road to the property. He was quiet and introverted, two words that were not usually synonymous with Tony DiNozzo and _that_ was making his partner extremely nervous.

The shrill of the cell phone startled him and he flicked the speakerphone button as he brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" Tony answered warily.

"DiNozzo?"

"Gibbs!"

"You two all right?"

"We're a little battered and bruised," Tony said. "You know what happened?"

"Vance told me," Gibbs replied. "Where are you?"

"At a safe house about 30 minutes south of Blacksburg. We seem to be okay for the moment."

"That the safe house Brady set up?"

"Yes."

"You need to get the hell outta there!" Gibbs said. "Fornell has a cabin about 15 minutes south of Blacksburg. I'll give you directions - you'll be safe there."

"This assignment was a set up." It was a statement rather than a question and Gibbs noted with concern, the disillusion and exhaustion in the younger man's voice.

He gave Tony the address to Fornell's cabin and some basic instructions. Tony glanced at McGee who nodded to indicate that he had committed the details to memory.

"You get to the cabin and sit tight," Gibbs instructed. "We have a Navy chopper on stand-by and we'll get you two out of there, ASAP."

"Yeah, Gibbs, about that," Tony replied. "There are three of us now. We picked up a souvenir."

"DiNozzo…what the hell- "

"Saleem Akram is bound and gagged and sitting five feet from me as we speak," Tony said.

"Akram! How the hell did he get into the country without sending up flags at every damn Government agency?" Gibbs asked angrily.

"You tell me," Tony replied. "We would have gift wrapped him for you but there just wasn't- _shit_!"

McGee heard the sudden change in Tony's voice and followed his gaze out the window as a dark sedan made its way from the main road and slowly turned toward the property. It came to a halt 50 yards from the house and five Pakistani men climbed from the car.

"_Move, McGee, get to the car, NOW!" _Tony ordered urgently. "_When you hear me start shooting, you put your head down and drive like hell_."

McGee heaved Saleem to his feet and placed his gun against the man's spine as he monstered him into the back of their vehicle, secured his handcuffs to the rear seat and slammed the hatch closed.

"DiNozzo?...Tony!!" Gibbs' voice sounded from the now forgotten phone. "Damn it, Tony answer me!"

Ending the call without time for an explanation, Tony tossed the cell to McGee and, with an encouraging nod to the younger man; he turned and ran back into the house to lay down some cover fire.

McGee climbed behind the wheel of the car and drew a huge shuddering breath. He hated the thought of leaving Tony behind but knew that if they were to get out of this alive he had to stick to the plan.

By the time Tony made it back inside, the five men had started to fan out and cautiously approach the house. He sidled up to the windows, making certain he had cover, but ensuring he had a clear view to each of the terrorists. When the man on Tony's far left made a dash for the side of the house, Tony open fired. He hit the man high in the left thigh before adjusting his aim, putting two rounds in his chest and sending the others scrambling for cover. His heart was racing as he heard McGee fire up the SUV at the back of the house.

"Now, Probie!" Tony yelled, knowing his partner couldn't hear him over the roar of the engine and the screech of the tyres.

Tony continued to lay down cover fire as the SUV swerved around the corner of the house at high speed and hurtled down the access road, attracting the attention of the remaining four terrorists. With their focus now on the vehicle, Tony ran for the rear door of the house and stealthily made his way to the side of the building where the trees and vegetation provided cover and a good angle on the terrorists and their sedan.

His heart skipped several beats when the passenger side windows of the SUV exploded in a shower of tiny crystals and it veered dangerously off the road and into a shallow ditch. Two of the terrorists broke cover, running toward the stalled SUV but the sound of rapid-fire from the vehicle, followed by the sight of the bloodied men falling to the ground, assured Tony that McGee was not badly injured.

The engine of the SUV caught on the second attempt and with considerable revving of its powerful engine the vehicle dragged itself from the ditch and headed, once again for the main road.

Running at a crouch, Tony emptied his clip into the terrorist's sedan, bursting both tyres on the passenger side, perforating the radiator with a gaseous hiss and keeping the last two men pinned behind the vehicle. Without slowing his pace, he ejected and reloaded a new clip with expert precision and started for the field. With luck, he'd make it to the road in time to meet up with McGee.

With a strength and speed borne of desperation, he broke from the cover of the trees and headed diagonally across the open field. He was making good ground and had a two hundred yard start on the two terrorists when a force that knocked the breath out of him sent him sprawling face down in the dirt.

Roils of nausea immediately assailed him and a mind-numbing pain in his shoulder had him gasping for breath. His heart was pounding so hard that his vision was greying and he stubbornly forced his mind to stay alert. Placing his right hand to his left shoulder he felt the sticky, warmth of his own blood flowing freely into his thick black sweater and knew he was in trouble. He could hear the shouts of the Pakistanis as they followed his path across the field, moving in for the kill.

Adrenalin surged through his veins, mercifully blocking his pain perception and giving him the strength to push himself up on shaky legs. Keeping low, he staggered drunkenly toward the road, each jolting step sending shafts of pain stabbing into his wound. Losing his balance he stumbled, landing heavily on his knees. On all fours, he scrambled desperately onward, flinching amid a hail of bullets that kicked at the dirt around him.

Caught in his agonising nightmare, Tony barely heard the screeching of rubber on bitumen as McGee flattened the gas pedal and veered the SUV from the road. The car crashed through the two-rail fence sending slithers of splintered wood flying through the air as he sped toward his downed partner and skidded to a halt with the SUV between Tony and the closing Pakistanis.

He fired a series of rounds in quick succession and the Pakistanis flattened themselves on the ground. With the threat momentarily contained, McGee leant across the passenger seat and threw open the door.

"Tony!" he screamed. "Get in!"

His head shot up and he looked up at McGee through pain-filled, glassy eyes.

"Move!! Come on!!"

Tony literally felt the adrenaline seep from his body and wondered whether he had the strength to take the last few steps to the car. Biting down hard on his lip to muffle his involuntary cry of pain, he dragged himself to his feet and lunged into the passenger seat. McGee floored the gas pedal and furiously manoeuvred the SUV back to the road, in the direction of Fornell's cabin.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N:- Thanks again for your wonderful reviews, alerts and PM's - I'm very grateful for each one, L**


	11. Chapter 11

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended. **

**Chapter 11**

Ziva and Fornell escorted a handcuffed Jason Brady into the bullpen where Vance, Ducky, Abby and Palmer were standing in an animated huddle.

Vance ordered Agent Watkins to take Brady to one of the interrogation rooms. It was then that Ziva noticed that Abby's eyes were red and puffy.

"What has happened?" Ziva asked urgently. "Where is Gibbs?"

"Right behind you," Gibbs replied stepping from the elevator, laden with three rifles and a bag containing, spare clips for each of them.

"There's still no answer, Gibbs!" Abby sobbed handing Gibbs the untraceable cell. She had been trying to reach Tony and McGee since Gibbs had told them the safe house had been hit.

"You want in on this, Tobias?" Gibbs asked.

"I've come this far," he said relieving Gibbs of two of the rifles and handing one to Ziva.

"Will someone _please_ tell me what is going on?" she snapped.

"I'll tell you on the way, we've got a chopper to catch. Let's move!" Gibbs said leading the others back to the elevator.

"Gibbs! Gibb! Please bring them home!" The words were Abby's but the depth of the sentiment was reflected in every pair of eyes.

"That's the plan, Abs," Gibbs said determinedly as the elevator doors closed.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Arriving at Anacostia Naval Base, Gibbs, Fornell and Ziva headed for the heliport. Commander James Ford looked up from his desk in time to see the hurried approach of the agents as they proceeded to the embarkation point. Dismissing his aide with a brisk salute, the Commander introduced himself to Gibbs.

At the urgent request of Director Vance, two Navy SeaHawks had been assigned as support for the rescue mission. A squad of eight Marines, including two corpsmen, were already aboard the second aircraft, ready for immediate take off.

The three agents climbed aboard the first SeaHawk, buckling themselves into their seats, donning their helmets and activating their communication devices.

"Welcome aboard, Sirs, Ma'am," the pilot, Lt Commander Mike Hennessey, said. "Make sure you're strapped in, we're cleared for immediate take off."

"What's the flying time, Skipper?" Gibbs asked.

"Should have you at the destination point in approximately 30 minutes, Sir," the fresh-faced pilot replied.

"I thought the Director said Tony and McGee's flight was 90 minutes?" Ziva asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, but they hitched a ride on a fully laden supply chopper and made a pit-stop on the way," the pilot replied with a cheeky grin. "This baby makes that old girl look like a flying school bus."

Gibbs handed the co-pilot his cell phone.

"Lieutenant, my agents are on speed dial one. They've stopped answering," he explained. "Any way you can keep calling and patch it through if they pick up?"

"Yes, Sir," the co-pilot replied briskly – amazingly, he looked younger than the impossibly young-looking pilot and Gibbs and Fornell shared a knowing look, both suddenly feeling every ache and pain in their aging bodies.

As the helicopters lifted off and flew low, in a tight formation, Gibbs' thoughts were with his agents and his mind refused to believe the worst had happened. _'Hang on, we're coming for you.'_

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Vance walked into the interrogation room, dismissed Agent Watkins with a sharp nod and took a seat across from Jason Brady.

"You knew Mehmood Khalil was being held in Gitmo," Vance stated.

Brady did not reply.

"You knew he was in custody and you knew the CIA had confiscated the email, yet you sent two of my agents on an impossible mission," Vance hissed, "and now you're going to tell me why."

The look of resigned defeat that had imposed itself on Brady's face quickly turned to defiance.

"I'm not saying anything until I have had the opportunity to speak with my legal counsel," Brady snarled.

Vance's voice was calm and steady as he studied the man across the table.

"That's your right," he nodded, "but you should know, that the Under Secretary chartered a flight to the Gili Islands in Indonesia. The flight left before my men got to the airport. Beautiful destination the Gili Islands, white sand, crystal clear waters…and no extradition treaty with the USA. He's gone, Brady, and he left you holding the can."

Vance dropped the calm façade and allowed the younger man to see the fury in his eyes.

"Make no mistake – someone is going down hard for risking the life of my agents. You better pray that we get them home safely or I'll make it my personal mission to see that you stand trial for more than abuse of public office and government power. You've got 10 minutes to decide whether to talk to me or to your attorney."

The legs of the chair scrapped noisily along the linoleum floor as Vance pushed away from the table and left the interrogation room.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

McGee hurtled the SUV around another sharp corner in the road, causing the vehicle to fishtail wildly until he was able to regain control. Hunched over in the passenger seat, Tony groaned through clenched teeth as the reckless motion of the car repeatedly threw him against the door.

"T-take it easy, Fangio…" Tony gasped. "S-slow down, they're not…not following us."

McGee chanced a look at his partner's pained expression.

"How do you know? They could be right behind us!" he said anxiously then his face brightened as realisation occurred. "You took out their car!"

Tony nodded sluggishly. "I took…took out the car!"

McGee immediately veered to the shoulder of the road and stopped the vehicle. He turned toward his partner, wincing at the amount of blood seeping from the wound in Tony's shoulder and through his fingers as he attempted to keep pressure on it.

"That's really bleeding," McGee said, thinking aloud.

"Thanks for that…Special Agent Obvious," Tony wheezed.

"We need to stop the bleeding," McGee said looking around the SUV hoping to find something to use to apply pressure to the wound. He placed one hand on Tony's arm and another on his back. "I'm gonna lean you forward a little…I need to check your back."

Tony bit down hard on another groan as the forward movement sent a searing pain through his shoulder and brought another bout of dizziness that seemed to hit with regularity and without warning. He felt McGee lifting his sweater to check his back and then the pain returned as McGee gently leaned him back against the seat.

"Well," McGee said. "The good news is that the wound is through and through."

"What's…what's the bad news?"

"You'll never wear that sweater again," McGee answered laconically. "Keep the pressure on it until I can get you to the cabin, then we'll get the bleeding stopped."

"You know...I was thinking…just before they shot me…would have been a good time for plan B," Tony gasped painfully.

McGee's eyes grew impossibly wide. "We had a plan B?"

"Umm, no…but it would have been…a good time for one, don't ya think?"

Tony suddenly remembered that Saleem was still in the rear of the vehicle.

"Probie…check Sal."

"We need to get you to the cabin, Tony," McGee said firmly. "I'll check him later."

"Check him now, McGee! Make sure…he didn't get aerated by his own guys."

"Tony…"

"Now, Probie!" Tony gasped. "Watch his legs, make sure he doesn't kick you."

Reluctantly, McGee strode to the rear of the SUV and lifted the hatch. Saleem was still handcuffed securely to the rear seat and McGee checked him quickly to determine he had not been shot. Although the terrorist was still gagged, his hate-filled eyes spoke volumes.

"Yeah, same to you," McGee muttered as he closed the hatch.

He climbed back behind the wheel when the muted ring tone of the cell phone filled the vehicle.

"Probie?" Tony said as he frowned in confusion. "Where's the cell?"

McGee noted the pallor of his partner's skin; the glazed look in his eyes and knew he had to get him to Fornell's cabin as soon as possible.

"Hold on, Tony," he angled his body and reached blindly behind the passenger seat.

"It slid off the seat when I drove into the ditch. I couldn't reach it…Got it!" he said just as the cell stopped ringing.

He checked the display and noticed 41 missed calls. _'Had to be the Boss,'_ he thought and before he could re-dial the cell rang again.

"McGee!" he answered.

The noise of the engine and rotor blades from the other end of the line made it difficult to hear anything and McGee was about to end the connection and call again when a familiar and welcome voice sounded.

"McGee?"

"Boss!"

"Where are you? Are you alright?" Gibbs asked, his calm voice belying his concern.

"Boss, the safe house was hit and Tony's been shot," he said switching to speakerphone so he could continue driving without further delay. "We're about 5 minutes from Fornell's cabin."

"McGee, we're 30 minutes out from that location. We have corpsmen onboard, how bad is he hit?"

"Through and through to the left shoulder, Boss," McGee replied. "He's conscious, the wound's bleeding badly and he's in a lot of pain."

He could hear Fornell's voice in the background and then Gibbs spoke again.

"There's a large first aid kit in the bathroom of the cabin, including Celox gauze. That will help stop the bleeding until we can get him to a hospital," Gibbs advised. "Get to the cabin, get DiNozzo settled and call us back, I'll have one of the corpsmen standing by."

"Right, Boss," McGee said before Gibbs ended the connection.

He looked to his partner in the passenger seat, noting how he was breathing in small, jerky gasps.

"You hear that, Tony?" he said. "Help is on the way. When we get to the cabin, all we have to do is sit tight."

"So…no square dancing?" Tony quipped.

"I thought your clogging days were behind you?"

"Once a clogger…always a clogger. I'm a conundrum, Probie."

"You certainly are, Tony," the younger agent replied with a trace of admiration.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

McGee climbed from the SUV and walked quickly around the vehicle. He opened the passenger side door, careful to avoid depositing his senior field agent on the ground. Tony had stopped speaking a few minutes back, answering only in grunts as he concentrated on remaining conscious and stemming the blood flow with his own hands.

"Tony, we're here – we're at the cabin," he said as he leaned in and helped his partner slowly swing his long legs out of the car. The movement, though painful appeared to shake Tony from his fog and he became more alert.

"Gibbs didn't…say anything about a key," Tony said breathlessly. "Help me up, Probie, I'll have to…have to pick the lock."

"It's okay, Tony, I've got it covered."

"McGee…you're a man of many talents but…lock-picking isn't one of them."

"Ah, but you seem to have forgotten a method of entry I learned many years ago from a colleague of mine," McGee said with a wry smile as he momentarily disappeared from Tony's sight and returned with a rock the size of his fist in his favoured left hand.

"You wouldn't," Tony said warily.

"I'll spare you the football commentary except to say - _DiNozzo, go long!"_

He hurled the rock through the glass panel in the door and watched it disintegrate with a resounding crash!

"Well done, Grasshopper...I taught you well," Tony said with a modicum of pride and a tired grin. "But Fornell is...is so gonna kill you."

McGee opened the door of the cabin and then ran back to help ease Tony to his feet. Wrapping an arm around his waist he assisted him into the cabin and lowered him to the couch.

"What about…Sal?" Tony asked through a clenched jaw.

"He's not going anywhere," McGee replied. "Let's get you settled first then I'll bring him in."

McGee found the large first aid kit in the bathroom and placed it on the couch next to Tony, then he gathered some clean towels, folded two hand towels and placed them over Tony's wounds, urging the flagging agent to place as much pressure on them as he could.

He filled a large basin with warm water and returned to Tony's side, frowning at Tony's sweaty, pale complexion and his shallow breathing. He hoped his partner wasn't going into shock and he removed a comforter from the large double bed and tucked it around Tony's legs to keep him warm. Taking the scissors from the kit, McGee looked apologetically at the older man before cutting the sweater off him.

Inhaling deeply to quell his own rising nausea, he dialled Gibbs number and waited for the cell to be answered.

"McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss, it's me, we're in the cabin."

"How's DiNozzo?"

"Not so good, but hanging in there," McGee told him. "Boss, I need to stop the bleeding."

"Do you have the first aid kit?"

"I've got it, I've got towels, a basin of water and I've wrapped Tony in a blanket. Just tell me what I need to do," he said, impressed that his voice sounded so calm and controlled.

The call was switched to the other helicopter where Navy Corpsman, Paul Austin, was waiting to instruct McGee on how to clean and assess Tony's wound and attempt to stop the bleeding.

Finding a pair of sterilized rubber gloves, McGee tore them from the bag and placed them on his hands. Then he poured a liberal amount of Betadine antiseptic over the wound, causing Tony to writhe and hiss through tightly clenched teeth for several seconds until the burning pain subsided to a tolerable level.

Following the corpsman's clear instructions, McGee found several rolls of Celox gauze in the kit. The corpsman explained that Celox gauze was coated with granules that work by absorbing water from the blood, causing the blood to coagulate and the wounds to stop bleeding.

To McGee's horror, he was instructed to pack the gauze into the wound to allow the clotting agent to stop any internal bleeding that was happening deep inside Tony's shoulder. The process was bloody and excruciating and despite his best efforts to be stoic, Tony produced several hoarse, guttural sounding yells that had McGee struggling to hold on to his own composure.

By the time McGee applied the last of the dressings, Tony's eyes were closing of their own accord and he could no longer fight the pain and exhaustion. After a few moments, the cell rang again and Gibbs' voice sounded.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

"Sleeping," McGee replied. "The bleeding's stopped, for now."

"Good job, McGee, we'll see you in 15."

When the call ended, McGee collapsed into a lounge chair and breathed deeply. His stomach clenched tightly and bile rose to the back of his throat. He was instantly on his feet and running for the bathroom where he deposited the contents of his stomach. He rinsed his mouth with water and walked back into the living room, relieved to see that Tony was still asleep. He looked toward the front door and cringed as he saw the remains of the window, lying in pieces on the floor with a familiar looking fist sized rock.

"You're right," he said softly as Tony slept. "Fornell's gonna kill me."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Jason Brady was smart enough to realise that, for him, there was no way out. Unlike the Under Secretary, who downed-tools and fled to an idyllic seaside retirement on an Indonesian resort, Brady was now looking at an all expenses paid holiday in a Federal penitentiary.

He exercised his right to legal counsel and, for the past 15 minutes, he and his attorney had been seated, across the table from Director Vance. Despite the video and audio equip recording the interview, Vance read from the notes he'd been meticulously taking.

"According to your statement, prior to staging this elaborate ruse, you were apprised by the CIA that Mehmood Khalil was being detained at Guantanamo Bay. Furthermore, you were aware that the email containing information relating to a potential terrorist attack, had also been removed from Khalil's residence."

"That is correct," Brady stated.

"You received notification from the Budget Allocation department that your office and the position of Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence was under review and may be merged with another portfolio. Using the information provided by the CIA you fabricated a terrorist threat against a US naval base to involve NCIS?"

"We thought if we could uncover and neutralise a terrorist cell before it was activated, we could convince the Defence Secretary and the President that we were a viable department and crucial to national security."

"In other words, you were trying to keep your jobs," Vance said bitterly, "and you abused your position and endangered the lives of my agents to do it."

"Our intel suggested that the HuM cell was still being formed – half a dozen radical college kids with no weapons or combat training," Brady said. "We believed two armed and highly trained Federal Agents would easily out match them. We set up cameras inside _and _outside Khalil's residence so that we could identify any HuM members that may have slipped through the net. I swear, Director, we had no idea that the cell was ready to be activated or of the arsenal and the threat they posed."

"Where did you get your intel," Vance said.

"For the last 6 months we suspected that there was a mole in our department and several of our people were under suspicion. Three months ago, our surveillance team reported that Foreign Analyst, Rashid Mohsin, had met with two young Pakistani students, one was a known HuM sympathiser on Homeland Security's watch list."

"Did you have Mohsin arrested?" Vance asked.

Brady huffed a laugh**,** "Come now, Director, with your background, surely I don't need to tell you how valuable counterintelligence can be?"

"So you fed him the information about the fake operation, knowing that he would pass the details onto the HuM cell? Don't tell me you were stupid enough to trust the intel _he _was giving _you_ about the size and state of readiness of the cell?"

The slight widening on Brady's eyes answered Vance's question.

"It matched the initial intel we received from the CIA that said the cell was in its infancy. We never meant for anyone to get hurt or for this to get so out of hand," Brady reiterated.

"What do you know about Saleem Akram?" Vance asked.

"According to intelligence briefings, Akram used to be Mehmood Khalil's right hand man in Pakistan before he left to set up his own cell," Brady said. "He's allegedly masterminded several terrorist attacks on western targets in India, Pakistan and Kashmir. What's he got to do with this?"

"Akram led the attack on my agents last night," Vance stated coldly.

"I don't know anything about that, we didn't even know he was in the country," Brady argued, a sheen of perspiration becoming evident on his features. "We didn't mean for your agents to be harmed. That's why we arranged the safe house – so if things did get out of hand, they could regroup at the safe house and call for help on the Sat phone."

"If that's true, why did you also leak the address of the safe house?" Vance hissed.

"I didn't."

"The terrorists attacked the safe house and one of my agents was shot! Someone from your department must have leaked that information!"

"Nobody knew the address of the safe house except me!" Brady protested. "Not even the Under Secretary knew. I swear I don't know how the terrorists found your agents."

Vance felt the bitter feeling of dread rush through his veins. He needed to update Gibbs and he needed to find out how the terrorists were tracking DiNozzo and McGee. He'd send a team to the home of Rashid Mohsin but it was more than likely the man would have been on the first plane to Pakistan as soon as the cell was activated. He pushed his chair from the table and opened the door of the interrogation room.

"Director, for what it's worth, I'm truly sorry your agents were injured," Brady said. "We were just trying to save our careers."

Vance's eye's darkened ominously.

"Whether it was your intention or not, doesn't matter. You may have lost your jobs but you better start praying to whatever God you believe in that I haven't lost two agents!"

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

The pilot and co-pilot were checking the aerial and topographic maps on their in-flight computer system, discussing the best landing site near the cabin when the pre-pubescent looking Lieutenant turned in his seat to speak with Fornell.

"Sir, our map indicates that the clearing at the front of your property would be big enough to land both choppers," he said. "What do you think?"

"No problem," Fornell said nodding his head. "The rest of the area is heavily forested. The next closest clearing would be about half a mile to the south of the cabin but I doubt that you'd fit both choppers safely."

"Thank you, Sir," the young man said before turning back to the cockpit.

Gibbs checked his watch again and rolled his eyes when he realised they were still 8 minutes out. He was not a patient man under the best of circumstances and these were far from the best of circumstances. He had two men on the ground, one badly injured and the churning in his gut was telling him that this was far from over.

Right on queue, he heard the soft click of the speakers in his helmet as the co-pilot's voice sounded.

"Agent Gibbs, we are receiving an emergency message from Director Vance. I'll patch it through, Sir."

Gibbs gave the "thumbs-up" signal and immediately heard the Director's voice.

"Gibbs, we may have a problem."

"Just one, Director?" Gibbs replied.

"Brady swears that he was the only person who knew the address of the safe house. McGee and DiNozzo should have been safe there."

"The bullet in DiNozzo's shoulder seems to say otherwise," Gibbs growled.

"Agreed," Vance said, "But the only other people to have that address were McGee and DiNozzo themselves."

"Well, obviously someone else must have…_dammit!" _Gibbs cursed.

"Gibbs?"

"Their car, Director!" Gibbs yelled in frustration. "The terrorists must have planted a transmitter planted in their car!"

"How far out are you?"

Gibbs checked his watch again. "Five minutes."

"Give them a heads up and keep me apprised," Vance said and ended the call abruptly.

"Lieutenant Collins, I need you to try to reach my agents on the cell and patch the call to me," Gibbs told the co-pilot.

"Right away, Sir," Collins replied briskly.

"Problem, Sir?" the pilot asked.

"It's possible my agents have been followed to the cabin, Skipper," Gibbs said. "We need to be ready for the possibility of un-friendlies and we need to get my people the hell out of there."

"Understood, Sir, we're four minutes out," the young Commander replied. "I'll let the other team know what to expect."

"Agent Gibbs?" the co-pilot called. "There's no answer on the cell, Sir, I'll keep trying."

Gibbs looked to his right and saw his concern mirrored on the anxious faces of Ziva and Fornell.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo---oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

A/N- Celox gauze prevents blood loss by forming a gel like clot as the Celox granules bind to the surface of red blood cells. It was originally developed to assist military medics with some of the worst wounds imaginable – even arterial bleeds. Widely used in Afghanistan & Iraq and it has helped save many lives.

Celox products are suitable for all types of trauma. For example, battlefield; serious emergency and trauma situations, workplace or sporting incidents; or accidents in the family home. Many remote properties have the product in their first aid kits due to their distance from a hospital. L


	12. Chapter 12

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N:** Thanks again for the messages of encouragement and support for this story. Every review, PM and alert is appreciated. Thank you, also, to those of you who just read quietly along in the background. I hope you enjoy the next chapter, L

**Chapter 12**

The searing pain in his shoulder hurled him cruelly out of a light sleep and into full awareness. A groan escaped through his tightly clenched teeth as he used his right arm to prop himself up and looked around for McGee.

"Probie?"

"Right here," McGee's voice sounded from behind him.

He swung his legs from the couch and closed his eyes tightly as the world dipped suddenly to the left and then corrected itself.

"Tony? You okay?"

"I'm good," Tony said breathlessly. "How long was I out? Why'd you let me sleep? What's going on?"

"Let's see…about 5 minutes, you needed the rest and not a lot," McGee answered. "The Boss should be here in about 10 minutes and we'll be going home."

Tony noticed McGee had brought Saleem into the cabin and had seated him on the floor in the middle of the room. He was still handcuffed and gagged. McGee walked repeatedly from the front to the back of the cabin checking the area through the windows.

The cool breeze blowing through the, now, window-less door caused Tony to shiver violently.

"I'm feeling a little naked here, Probie, is there a shirt I can wear?"

"Oh, right, I found an old shirt in the wardrobe. It won't be a perfect fit but it'll keep you warm," he said, helping to ease the shirt over Tony's injured shoulder and gently placing his left arm into a sling from the first aid kit.

"Help me up, Probie?" Tony asked.

"Tony, you really shouldn't be moving around."

He swayed dangerously on his feet and McGee was by his side in an instant, easing him back onto the couch.

"What are you doing? You're gonna start the bleeding again," McGee admonished. "Just sit still, everything's fine."

Tony tried a few deep breaths, willing away the dizziness.

"Ah...Tony?" McGee said hesitantly, taking a keen interest in the floor. Exhaling audibly he set his jaw and looked Tony directly in the eyes. "I was wrong and I'm sorry. This assignment was so important to me; I was so determined to prove myself, as a field agent and an operative that I just wouldn't let myself believe that we'd been set-up by our own people. You're my partner and the senior agent. I should have trusted you."

"Been having some trust issues myself, Probie," Tony said. "Let's get out of this mess and you can buy me a steak dinner."

Tony closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch, desperately trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder and wishing he could sleep for a week.

"Ah...Tony?"

"Okay...make it pizza, McFrugal, but I pick the topping and you're still buying."

"No...Tony." Something in the tone of his voice twisted Tony's gut. He blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his focus and saw McGee standing by the front window with a look of trepidation on his face. "We have a problem, we've got company."

Painfully extricating himself from the couch, Tony joined McGee at the window in time to see two large SUV's, each with four men, turn towards Fornell's cabin and park in the clearing.

"That's not a problem, Probie, that's a freakin catastrophe!!" he said. "_How the hell do they keep finding us??"_

"Someone's _still _leaking our position!" McGee said with disgust.

"Looks that way, we've been set up…and lied to since…this thing started," Tony said, breathing through the pain. He took a few deep breaths and looked through the window again. "I'll take the guys on the left, Probie, you take…the guys on the right. We'll need the…the spare clips."

"There's not many clips left but I'll get 'em," McGee said, hurrying to the rear of the cabin where he had stashed the backpacks.

"You know, it's funny," Tony said. "I always thought I wanted to...to go out in a hail of bullets like Butch and Sundance - now I have the chance, I'm not so sure."

"That's not funny," McGee moaned, rifling through the backpacks for the spare clips.

"Huh, it was funnier in my head," he admitted.

"A lot of things you say are funnier in your head, Tony."

Tony shrugged and then gasped as a searing pain shot through his shoulder.

"Looks like they're almost ready, Probie, where are those cli…"

His words were cut off by an exclamation of surprise and Tony turned to see that, in his haste, McGee had walked too close to the Saleem. With a burst of pent up fury, terrorist had kicked out his feet and swept McGee's legs out from under him. Taken totally by surprise, McGee fell heavily, his head impacting the solid coffee table with a sickening crack. His weapon and the spare clips clattered noisily on the timber floor, as McGee lay unconscious in the middle of the room.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Saleem hurled himself to his feet and, as his hands were still cuffed, he drew back his foot to kick the unconscious agent in the face. The sound of gunfire and the muffled, agonising scream from the terrorist occurred simultaneously as the force of Tony's bullet pulverised Saleem's anklebone and left him in a moaning, pain-wracked heap.

Tony checked on the action outside the window, relieved to see that the gunshot had sent the terrorists scurrying for cover behind the vehicles. He eased his injured arm from the sling, refusing to acknowledge the pain shooting through his shoulder and he switched his weapon to his left hand. Without taking his eyes off Saleem, he crouched down and felt McGee's neck for a pulse and was overwhelmingly relieved when he felt a strong, pulsating beat. He tapped McGee's cheek with his fingers, hoping to rouse the younger agent.

"Probie!" he coaxed. "Come on, Probie…open those peepers. We've got…more work to do."

McGee's eyes opened to slits and the resulting brightness sent shards of pain spearing into his brain. He grunted, turning his head instinctively away from the light.

"Probie! Come on, man, we…haven't got time for this!" Tony said breathing harshly as the cell phone began to ring. He looked around for the phone but couldn't see it. "Probie, the cell! Where the hell is the cell phone?"

Leaving McGee's side for a moment, Tony gathered the three spare clips and moved back to check the windows in time to see two men break the cover of the vehicles and run towards the side of the house. Knowing he could not let them flank him, he opened fire, seriously wounding one man with a round to the abdomen and killing the other with two rounds to the chest.

The recoil of his weapon was almost his undoing, sending mind-numbing pain along his arms to his shattered shoulder. The sound of his own raspy breathing drowned out all other sounds and for a terrifying moment, Tony thought he was about to pass out. He felt the sweat drip down his back and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to recede to a more manageable level.

The irritating sound of the ringing cell phone brought him back to the present and after quickly checking that Saleem presented no immediate threat, he kneeled by his partner's side. McGee was rousing slowly, his eyes were glazed and barely focussed and Tony knew that he would be unable to assist him keep the terrorists at bay. He helped him to lean against the couch, picked up McGee's weapon and handed it to the younger man, wrapping his fingers around the grip.

"Probie, I need you to watch Sal," he said. "You think you can do that?"

McGee blinked owlishly, "I think so...I just...I kinda have double vision."

"Then here's what you do," Tony said pointing to Salim. "If either of them moves, you shoot them both. Got it?"

McGee nodded gingerly and as he met Tony's gaze, he saw only courage and strength in his green eyes and he hoped to God that Tony saw the same in his.

He returned to the window just as another two men left the cover of the vehicle. Tony was trembling so badly that, even with his two-handed grip, the gun kept wavering off target. Gritting his teeth through the pain he emptied another clip in the terrorist's direction, hitting one but not the other. He desperately needed help.

"_Probie, where's the damn cell?"_

McGee patted down his pockets expecting to find it there and looked a little surprised that it wasn't. Tony checked the window and found it was still quiet outside.

"The lounge chair," McGee said listlessly. "Maybe it slipped behind the cushions."

"Listen…you hear that, Probie? The choppers are here, the cavalry has arrived!" he said reaching for and finding the phone. "DiNozzo!"

"Tony, are you okay?" Gibbs demanded. "Why the hell didn't you answer the damned phone?"

"We've been a little busy down here - what with being shot at and all," Tony answered bitterly. "We've got bad guys at the door, _again_, McGee's been hurt, I could really use some help down here."

"We're two minutes out. Watch for the Marines coming in on your six, you got that?" Gibbs asked.

"I got it, but you better…make it quick, I'm down…to my last clip." Tony replied breathlessly. "When that's done…I'll be throwing crockery."

"Hold on, we're almost there."

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

The two SeaHawks arrived and made a passing flight over the cabin to assess their proposed landing site. The site was now occupied by the two SUV's and the half a dozen angry terrorists who immediately open fired at the helicopters. Ever mindful of the safety of their crew, the pilots veered their aircrafts towards the secondary site half a mile away.

Gibbs, Ziva and Fornell pulled their flak vests on and readied themselves and their weapons when the pilot's voice sounded through the speakers.

"We're at the second site, Sir, it's not big enough to put a chopper down safely. We need to find another site."

"There's no time, Commander," Gibbs replied. "My agents are taking fire NOW,"

"Only way to get you down there, Sir, is FRD," the Commander said.

"Do it!" Gibbs replied without hesitation. "I'll go first."

"No, Sir, with all due respect, you're civilians," the Commander replied firmly. "We'll get the Marines on the ground first. They'll cover you in case there's trouble."

"Good enough," Gibbs agreed. "How long will this take?"

"The jar-heads love this stuff, Sir, they'll be on the ground in 60 seconds and then we'll get you down."

The co-pilot left his position in the cockpit and climbed into the back, he opened an equipment locker and handed a pair of thick gloves to the three agents.

"FRD?" Fornell said with a look of trepidation on his face. "Please don't tell me that stands for…"

"Fast Rope Descent, Tobias," Gibbs answered. "Chopper can't land, so they'll drop a rope over the side and we'll slide on down. You've done this before?"

"About 15 years ago as part of the training for the FBI Hostage Rescue Team," Fornell replied.

"You'll be fine," Gibbs said flexing his fingers in the stiff gloves. "It's just like riding a bike."

"Yeah, except I never rode my bike 50 feet in the air," Fornell muttered, reluctantly pulling on his gloves.

By the time they'd finished their discussion, the second SeaHawk had moved into position. They watched with interest as the squad of fully equipped Marines quickly descended the rope with speed and precision and then fanned out to cover the descent of the agents.

"See, the jarheads eat this stuff for breakfast," the young Lieutenant said with a grin. "As soon as we're in position, I'll attach the rope and send down your gear. One of the Marines will anchor the rope for you."

They watched as their gear was lowered quickly to the waiting Marine and the co-pilot signalled that it was time to go.

"Ladies first," Gibbs said as Ziva stood near the door of the aircraft.

"Ma'am, I'm just going to place my hands on your waist to support you until you have the rope in your grasp," the Lieutenant said.

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary," Ziva smiled sweetly. "Oh, and don't call me ma'am."

Without hesitation or instruction she leapt from the chopper to the rope and slid down to the waiting Marine.

Gibbs shrugged his shoulders and quirked a smile at the stunned expression of the co-pilot.

"Marines aren't the only ones who eat this stuff for breakfast," he said before he too, disappeared over the side and slid to a stop just before touching the ground.

"You ready, Sir?" the Lieutenant asked.

"Do I _look_ ready to you?" Fornell snapped. "It appears I don't have a choice in the matter."

He got into position and grudgingly allowed the Lieutenant to steady him as he prepared to launch himself down the rope.

"I'm too old for this shit," he muttered and then stepped off the chopper into thin air.

Once Fornell touched down safely, his backpack was thrust at him and the squad of Marines fell into formation around them. They double-timed it back towards the cabin where the sound of rapid gunfire chilled Gibbs to the bone.

The squad leader, Sergeant Tom Weston, brought them to a halt 10 yards behind the cabin. Still in the tree line, he signalled his squad to split up and flank the terrorists on both sides and the men moved out to take up there positions.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

If the remaining five terrorists were ever going to free Saleem and take the hard drive, the sight of two Navy helicopters over-head was enough for them to realise that it was now or never. As one, they open fired on the cabin, the bullets shattering windows, piercing the timber walls and forcing Tony and McGee to lie on the floor to avoid being shot.

When the onslaught of bullets waned, Tony ran in a low crouch, to take up his position by the window. He was gasping for breath but no matter how much air he drew in, it wasn't enough. His shoulder injury was excruciating, his arms and legs were trembling from his efforts and every part of him seemed to be throbbing in pain. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer.

Looking back to where McGee was laying, he realised that the younger agent had lost consciousness again. Saleem was still on the other side of the room, curled up; moaning and showing no indication that he was a threat.

A blurred movement from outside caught his attention as one terrorist made a suicide run. Screaming incoherently, his eyes wild with a look of insanity, he fired his weapon randomly as he ran straight at the cabin. Tony's mind flashed back to Khalil's house and the maniacal look of the man who hurled a grenade in their direction. He was sure he'd added to his catalogue of nightmares when it took five bullets to the chest to put the man down and the subsequent grenade explosion tore the man's arm off below the elbow.

Breathing harshly and barely able to remain on his feet, Tony staggered to where McGee still lay unconscious on the floor. He groaned with the pain and exertion of rolling the younger man into the recovery position, then he swapped his empty clip for McGee's full one. He barely noticed the growing blood stain on his shirt where his constant moving had caused his wound to start bleeding again.

He was moving back into position by the window when the door partially opened and a terrorist fired his weapon in his direction. Drawing from his last reserve of energy Tony dived to his left, narrowly avoiding the bullets and while still in mid air, he placed two rounds in the man's head.

His world exploded into agonising pain when he landed on his injured shoulder. Voices and gunfire quickly faded into the distance as Tony's mind started to rapidly shut down. He fought valiantly to push back the darkness, but overwhelming exhaustion and excruciating pain pulled him into a bottomless black void.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

The two corpsmen and the three agents had moved steadily toward the cabin, waiting anxiously for confirmation that the squad of Marines had successfully flanked, captured and disarmed the terrorists in the clearing. After what seemed like hours but was only a few moments, Sergeant Weston reported that the situation in the clearing had been contained and instructed the agents to proceed with caution to the cabin.

Arriving at the side of the cabin, Gibbs stood with the Sergeant while two of his Marines sidled up to the windows and carefully peered inside. His blood ran cold when he heard the whispered report.

"_We have four men down in the living room, two terrorists and two friendlies; we need corpsmen on stand-by."_

Gibbs started forward when the sergeant grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Sorry, Sir, building hasn't been cleared yet."

"Those are my men in there, Sarge," Gibbs growled.

"Yes, Sir, and those are _my_ men going in to clear the building so we can get yours out," the Sergeant replied, matching Gibbs' uncompromising glare.

Less than two minutes later another radio message was received.

"_Building has been cleared, repeat, building has been cleared. Get the corpsmen in here, stat."_

Gibbs ran for the cabin door with Ziva hot on his heels. He paused briefly at the doorway, having to step over a terrorist lying in an ever increasing pool of blood and seeing Saleem Akram still curled on the other side of the room, his foot a bloody mess.

Moving further into the cabin, he drew a shuddering breath when he saw McGee lying motionless near the couch and Tony's still and bloodied body lying by the windows.

The agents were shouldered aside as the corpsmen arrived and moved to assess the unconscious men. Ziva and Gibbs moved closer to assist.

"This one's alive, Sir," the first corpsman said to Gibbs. "Evidence of serious trauma and a bad head laceration. Could be a fractured skull. What's his name?"

"McGee, Special Agent Tim McGee," Ziva replied kneeling by McGee's side.

"Tim? Tim? Can you hear me?" the corpsman said calmly. "I need you to open your eyes for me, Tim, can you do that?"

When McGee didn't respond the corpsman gently lifted his eyelids to check his pupillary response.

"Pupils are equal but very sluggish. He's definitely sustained a concussion but there could also be something much more serious. We've gotta get him outta here fast."

The corpsman reached into his kit for a packet of Celox gauze and an icepack and handed them to Ziva.

"Ma'am, would you hold the gauze against the wound until the bleeding stops, then apply the ice pack? I need to get a cervical collar on him."

Ziva nodded and watched with concern as the corpsman eased the collar into position and radioed for a backboard and stretcher to be brought into the cabin. As they prepared McGee for transportation Ziva glanced across the room where Gibbs and corpsman Paul Austin were treating Tony.

"Sir, you said his name is Tony?" Corpsman Austin asked.

Gibbs nodded, his eyes never leaving the unconscious man.

"Tony? Tony, can you hear me?" Austin said as he carefully felt Tony's head and neck for signs of injury before turning his attention to Tony's shoulder.

"No sign of serious head injury but this shoulder's a mess," he said as he cut the shirt away to reveal the blood soaked dressings that McGee had applied earlier.

"Can you help me roll him, Sir? I need to take a look at the entry wound on his back."

"He was shot in the back?" Gibbs hissed furiously as he assisted Austin to roll Tony on to his side.

"Looks like it, Sir," the corpsman said. "I'm gonna start him on saline and I'll give him something to relieve the pain until we get him to a hospital. I'll need to repack that shoulder wound before we transport him."

The corpsman dug around in his kit and removed a saline bag, a vial and a syringe.

"Does he have any allergies you know of, Sir?"

"No," Gibbs said. "No allergies."

As the corpsmen worked on his agents, the Marines had cleared the area at the front of the cabin, enabling the SeaHawks to land. Sergeant Weston strode into the cabin.

"Agent Gibbs, the chopper's ready to transport your men to Bethesda Naval Hospital," he said. "Corpsman Austin will accompany you. There are two more choppers on the way, assigned clean up duty at Khalil's property and the safe house and a third will swing by here and pick up the bodies. We'll have the surviving terrorists transferred to NCIS headquarters as soon as we get back."

Gibbs extended his hand to the Sergeant. "Appreciate your help, Sarge, Semper Fi."

"Semper Fi," came the brisk reply before the Sergeant returned to his men.

Gibbs, Ziva and Fornell trailed behind as the Marines loaded the stretchers onto the SeaHawk and secured them for the flight. They climbed aboard, resumed their seats and buckled up as the Commander gave the thumbs up and the aircraft lifted off.

Although McGee did not regain consciousness during the flight to Bethesda, Tony started to stir and Gibbs and the corpsman were immediately at his side.

"Tony?" Gibbs said gently squeezing Tony's bicep for reassurance. "Tony, you're gonna be fine. We're on our way to Bethesda."

Tony's glassy and unfocussed gaze shifted to rest on Gibbs' face and he blinked several times to clear his vision. His face and eyes hardened with a fury that impaled the lead agent and he angrily shrugged Gibbs' hand from arm. Gibbs was confused by his reaction but Tony's heavy lids drifted shut and he was gone again.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Sir," the corpsman said. "He's disoriented and confused, he probably didn't even recognise you."

Gibbs nodded to the corpsman but he'd seen that look from Tony before – he just never expected to see it directed at him.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N:-** As mentioned in my opening author's note, I found it intriguing that after seeming to distance himself from Tony for most of S6, Gibbs provided him with so much support in Bounce and especially in Aliyah! Like many others, I wondered what happened in between? What caused the turnaround? So, while not straying from my initial storyline, the following chapters address a few issues that I thought had been "glossed over" on the show. For those of you who have been asking for the Tony/Gibbs angst - there will be plenty before the end of the story. I hope you enjoy the final three chapters, L

**Chapter 13**

Director Vance and Abby finally hacked into the second server at the DOD and were now able to extract the information they required. It had been an intensive and gruelling effort and it had left them both thoroughly exhausted. The quiet of the lab was disturbed when the Director's cell phone rang. He checked the display and nodded to Abby, flicking the speakerphone button as he answered.

"Gibbs?"

"We've got them," Gibbs said. "We're on our way to Bethesda, ETA 25 minutes."

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!…How are they?" Abby asked frantically.

"Tony has a bad shoulder wound and McGee's suffered a head injury," he said, wincing internally as he imagined the look of panic on Abby's face. "Abs, have Ducky meet us at Bethesda."

"Okay, um, right, I'll tell him right away," Abby said swiping angrily at the traitorous tears that slid down her pale cheeks.

The call disconnected and Vance handed Abby his handkerchief. She smiled sadly and wiped her mascara-smudged eyes, before blowing her runny nose several times.

"I'll be right back," she sniffed, "as soon as I give Ducky the message from Gibbs, I'll come right back and, you know, help you."

"Miss Scuito, go to the hospital with Doctor Mallard. I can finish up here."

"Really?" she said hopefully. "You're not just saying that because I cried? I mean, I know it's not very professional to cry at work – especially in front of the Boss - but I've just been really, really worried about Tony and McGee and now they're coming home and they're hurt and I could hear the worry in Gibbs' voice and that means it's bad – very bad. But we had an agreement, remember? I said I'd help you until we accessed the information we need and we haven't finished yet…I can really go?"

"Yes, you can," Vance said with a small grin. "You really don't need to see what's in this file and, believe me, the less you know about it the better. Go, I'll shut down the computers when I'm finished."

Abby collected her handbag and did a quick lap of the lab, shutting down her 'babies' while saying goodnight to them all. Then she faced the Director with her hands on her hips and a mischievous look in her eye.

"I think I have your number, Director," she said with a cheeky smile. "You may act all tough and uncaring but underneath, you're just a big ol' softy."

Vance looked over both of his shoulders and turned back to Abby.

"Do I need you to sign another confidentiality agreement, Miss Scuito?"

"No, Sir, your secret is safe with me!" she grinned. She got half way to the door before she stopped suddenly, ran back to him and placed something wet and sticky into his hand.

"Thanks for the hanky! Goodnight!!" she said before heading for the Autopsy room as fast as she could teeter on her platform boots.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Abby, Ducky and Palmer had arrived at the hospital 5 minutes before the arrival of the Navy SeaHawk. Abby gasped as she saw Tony and McGee wheeled into the Emergency Room.

Almost 40 minutes later, Gibbs, Palmer, Fornell, Ziva and Abby were waiting anxiously for Ducky to return with news of their friends. They stood as one, as the elderly medic stepped through the swinging doors into the waiting room.

"Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

"Let's all take a seat, shall we?" Ducky suggested.

"How are they, Ducky?" Abby said softly.

"Well, you'll be very pleased to know that both lads regained consciousness quite soon after they arrived here," he said smiling with relief.

"Timothy was very disoriented and confused when he awoke, he complained of a most dreadful headache and terrible nausea – all symptoms of a serious concussion – and he needed fourteen sutures in a deep scalp laceration. On a brighter note, once he calmed down, he was quite cognisant. He was taken for x-rays, an MRI and CT scans that showed no skull fractures but there is considerable swelling and bruising to the brain. The doctors are admitting him for a few days observation and arranging a room for him now."

"What about Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"Anthony is undergoing surgery as we speak," Ducky said. "The injury to his shoulder was sustained when a bullet entered his scapula or shoulder blade. Upon impacting and penetrating the scapula, the bullet changed to an upward trajectory before exiting through the clavicle or collarbone causing a nasty break. Very painful indeed. He suffered some blood loss and will receive a transfusion to replenish his blood levels. We'll know more after the surgery but the doctors appeared very confident that they could repair the muscle, nerve and tissue damage. After a strict physical therapy regime, Anthony should recover completely."

Palmer, Ziva and Abby hugged in relief while Fornell and Gibbs shared a restrained nod of approval.

"Well, I should be heading home," Fornell said rising to his feet. "It's never dull with this crowd, Jethro."

"You got that right," Gibbs said. "Thanks for helping out, Tobias, sorry to drag you away from your vacation."

"I suggest that we all go home, neither Timothy or Anthony will be in any condition for visitors tonight," Ducky said.

Palmer and Ziva reluctantly agreed, saying their goodnights and waiting for Abby.

"Go home, Abs," Gibbs said leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. "You're tired and there's nothing you can do here tonight."

"Tell them I'll be back to see them tomorrow," she said smiling sadly and certain that Gibbs would not be leaving until both agents were settled for the night.

"You bet."

He watched as Ducky and Palmer shepherded the young women toward the parking lot and then he walked to the Nurse's station to find out whether McGee had been transferred to a room. No matter how long he did this job, he never got used to the waiting.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

By the time Gibbs bought his third large coffee and a sandwich from the Starbucks kiosk in the hospital lobby, Tony was out of surgery and in the Recovery Ward. Despite being told that McGee would most likely sleep through the night, Gibbs chose to wait in his agent's room rather than the public waiting area.

"Boss?" McGee rasped.

"You should be sleeping, McGee," Gibbs said softly.

"How's Tony?"

"He's still in Recovery; they're bringing him down in a few minutes. Doc says he's gonna be fine," Gibbs replied. "You need something?"

"No, I was just worried about Tony."

"You know DiNozzo," Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly. "He's got more bounce back than a rubber ball."

"I guess so," McGee said solemnly.

"Something wrong, McGee?" Gibbs asked. "

"It's just a lot to take in, that's all."

"What is?"

"Tony in special assignment mode," McGee answered. "I've seen him prepare for assignments before and I've monitored plenty of them from the surveillance truck… but this was the first time I've actually been with him. You should've seen him, Boss, one minute he was Dr Jeckyl and the next he was Mr Hyde. He changed personas so quickly it was almost frightening."

"He's a man of many faces, McGee," Gibbs replied as his lips formed into a small grin.

McGee glanced away, unable to meet Gibbs' steady gaze.

"I underestimated him, Boss," McGee said softly. "The way he always jokes around and rarely takes anything seriously, made me think if he could be a successful operative, anyone could. I was so excited about this assignment and I couldn't understand why Tony was being such a hard-ass – I thought he was trying to show me up."

"If there's one thing DiNozzo _always_ takes seriously, Tim, it's undercover or special assignments," Gibbs told him. "The smallest mistake could have far reaching consequences. Tony knows that and he was trying to make you understand that there is no such thing as a routine assignment. He did what he had to do to keep you both alive."

"I know he did, Boss," McGee stated. "He put himself in harms way several times to protect me."

"That's what partners do. You're not the first to underestimate Tony and you won't be the last. He's a first class goofball but he's an even better agent – there's a lot he can teach you."

"I know, Boss," McGee said quietly. "Tony knew this assignment was a set-up right from the start and I didn't believe him."

Gibbs shrugged. "He's a seasoned undercover operative, McGee, and his instincts are second to none. You get a feel for these things after a while."

A nurse entered and crossed the dimly lit room to McGee's bedside.

"Agent McGee, I need to take your vitals and then you really should rest," she said and turned to look at Gibbs. "Agent DiNozzo's back from the Recovery ward and has just been settled in the room next door, he's awake if you'd like to speak with him."

Gibbs nodded his acknowledgement to the nurse and gave McGee's shoulder a quick pat.

"You did good. Now get some rest"

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Walking quietly into Tony's room, Gibbs sat in the visitor's chair beside the bed. He took in the IV's, patient-controlled morphine and the pulse-ox devices at a glance. Tony's eyes were closed, his lashes forming dark smudges on his pale skin and the multi-coloured bruising that had developed on Tony's cheek and jaw line appeared more vivid than before.

"Tony?" he said quietly, raising his voice marginally when there was no reply. "Tony?"

He noted the younger man's body was almost rigid with a tension not conducive to sleep. As he listened quietly to Tony's breathing, Gibbs' brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

During their eight year working relationship there had been many times when Gibbs had listened to the breathing patterns of his Senior Field Agent as he slept. Sometimes it was after a completely draining case when they were too tired to leave their desks and go home, sometimes they took turns to sleep while on exhaustive stake-outs and too many times he'd listened to Tony's breathing patterns from an identical chair placed beside an identical hospital bed.

The same nurse, who'd checked on McGee entered Tony's room and checked the flow rate of his IV's.

"You said he was awake?" Gibbs asked.

"He was awake a few moments ago. I told him you wanted to speak with him," she said, smiling sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs. He's obviously still feeling the effects of the anaesthetic. He'll probably sleep until morning."

Gibbs nodded and rose to his feet, hoping the nurse was right but sensing there was more going on here than the pull of medication.

"I'll be back in the morning," he replied. "Call me if he needs anything."

"Of course, Sir," the nurse replied.

Tony lay quietly until the sound of Gibbs' footfalls faded and the only sounds came from the nurse as she took his vitals and checked the equipment beside the bed.

"How's McGee?" he mumbled wearily.

"Oh," the nurse uttered in surprise, "you're awake! Agent Gibbs was just here, I'm sure I can catch him…"

"No!…I'm… I'm tired, just wanna sleep," Tony replied. "So, McGee's okay?"

"Agent McGee is fine," the nurse answered. "He has a serious concussion. We'll keep him here a few days for observation and we'll run some more tests tomorrow. He's sleeping in the next room."

Upon hearing that McGee was fine, Tony willed his body to relax. Despite the pain meds, he felt the tension painfully gripping every muscle. He knew he couldn't avoid Gibbs forever and suspected that the Lead Agent had sensed there was a problem. He needed time to sort things through in his mind, then and only then, would he confront Gibbs with the questions that had been plaguing him for weeks.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Director Vance opened the door to SecNav's luxurious Pentagon office and walked in confidently.

"Good evening, Sir," he said. "Your assistant said I should come straight in."

"I warn you, Director, after two days of schmoozing at a conference with the Secretary of Defence and my counterparts from the Air Force and Army, I'm tired and hungry," SecNav snarled. "What's so damned important that I had to cancel my dinner engagement?"

"I thought you should know that we currently have the Senior Aide for the Under Secretary of Defence for Intelligence, in custody pending criminal charges," Vance said.

"I take it this is about the covert operation to Mehmood Khalil's property?" SecNav asked.

"Yes, Sir," Vance replied. "It seems Brady and the Under Secretary fabricated that whole terrorist threat scenario that resulted in two of my agents being seriously injured. They abused their public office and government resources to gain political favour with the President."

"You couldn't tell me that over the phone, or did you just want to watch my reaction?"

"I'm on my way to brief the Secretary of Defence," Vance replied. "I'd like to be able to tell him that you were just following orders and had no knowledge of the real agenda."

"Be careful, Director, that sounds like a veiled threat to me," SecNav hissed.

"You misunderstand, Sir, if I wanted to threaten you, I'd tell SecDef of the file I saw Jason Brady leave on your desk, with the addresses, plans and photos we needed to extract my agents – crucial information that I was not privy to," Vance answered calmly. "Then there's the haste to schedule this assignment for a time when you were completely unreachable and with the Secretary of Defence himself! Nice alibi, by the way, Sir."

SecNav's eyes narrowed as his lips drew back into a snarl.

"You can't prove that file exists!"

"You're right, that's why it's lucky I have copies of confidential emails between you, the Under Secretary and Brady, setting this whole thing up."

"You hacked into the DOD computer system?" SecNav laughed humourlessly. "You realise, of course, that you have just confessed to committing a Federal offence?"

"Yes, Sir, I do," Vance replied, "but it will be worth taking the fall just to know that you and Brady will be falling from a far greater height."

_"What do you want Vance?"_ SecNav snarled.

"Complete and full disclosure of any and all special assignments allocated to my agency," Vance replied. "Plus total control of the planning and the back-up support for all agents involved. If you want my agents, I want to know why and I want to ensure that they are given every support available."

"Sounds like you're trying to buy back a few friends at the office, Leon?"

"I'm trying to do my job," Vance defended. "I don't need my agents to like me but I do need them to know that I'd never knowingly put them in harms way without adequate support and back-up."

"Your demand is unreasonable and you know it. Many assignments are 'need to know'."

"Agreed," Vance replied. "But I'll be the one who decides what information is passed on to my agents and what is withheld – not you."

"No deal," SecNav snapped.

Vance stood and turned toward the door.

"I'll give SecDef your regards. Of course, he'll probably ask me why you didn't come with me and why I've broken the chain of command by coming directly to him," Vance shrugged. "I'm sure he'll understand once I've explained your involvement."

"Wait!" SecNav called. "These emails between myself, the Under Secretary and Brady…you've deleted all record of them?"

"I managed to trace and delete all copies from the DOD site and from all personal and work email accounts. The only copies left are those I have safely secured," Vance told him. "Brady has no evidence to back up any accusations he may make against you. You can deny all knowledge of their agenda and claim that you acted under orders."

SecNav set his jaw firmly as he placed his topcoat over his arm, picked up his brief case and joined Vance as he made for the door.

"The Secretary knows we're coming?"

"Yes, Sir," Vance told him. "He's expecting us both."

SecNav stopped suddenly halting their progress with his hand firmly grasping Vance's forearm.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Leon," he said in a menacingly low voice. "You're going to have to watch your back. You make the wrong enemy and one day your life is going to crash down around you."

Vance stifled a huff of contempt as his eyes met SecNav's equally intense glare. He opened the office door and took a step back, waving the other man through before him.

"You first, Sir," he said with a sly grin.

**—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**Thanks for reading - plenty of Gibbs/Tony angst in the next two chapters, L**


	14. Chapter 14

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 14**

Tony spent a restless night battling the pain from his injury and the nausea from the anaesthetic. Despite the relentless throbbing, he had resisted using the morphine pump and tried to keep his mind sharp as he went over the events of the last 36 hours. Once again he'd been targeted as _Anthony DiNozzo, perennial fall guy_ – and this time he and McGee were very nearly killed.

When the morning eventually arrived, the lack of restful sleep had left him exhausted and the acute pain from his shoulder finally convinced him to press the morphine pump. He dozed lightly until the mid-morning visiting hours when the door to his room burst open.

"Tony!" Abby squealed, zeroing in on her friend's hospital bed and engulfing him in one of her infamous hugs.

"Hey Abs!" Tony replied forcing a weary grin.

"I missed you so much! Oh my poor baby, you're so pale, look at you! Can I get you anything, water, ice chips, pizza – just kidding about the pizza, Ducky said nothing rich and spicy in your diet for a few more days."

"I'm fine, Abs."

She busied herself fluffing his pillows, straightening the blankets and hovering over him like a hyperactive Gothic humming bird.

"Tony, you'll never guess what?"

"Okay, um...you've overcome your fear of clowns and you're running away to join the circus?"

"No, silly…you know I'm still scared of clowns!" Abby said, playfully punching his good arm.

"Oh right…I know…you've dusted off you're Ouija board and you're joining a witch's coven."

"Ooh, interesting…but wrong again!"

"I'm all out of guesses, Abs."

"Director Vance likes the Mummified Muskrats, he has both of their CDs!" Abby said brightening the room with a dazzling smile.

"Vance?" Tony said in disbelief.

"Yes!" Abby nodded emphatically.

"Leon Vance?"

"Uh huh!"

"Director Toothpick?"

"The one and only!" Abby confirmed watching Tony's sceptical expression.

"Knock, knock…are you up for some company?" Palmer said as he and Ziva guided McGee's wheelchair into the room.

"It's about time you woke up!" McGee said. "I came to see you earlier but you were still sleeping."

"Sorry, Probie, I had a bad night," Tony said casting an appraising look over the younger man. "New mode of transportation?"

"Hospital policy, it's the only way they'd let me visit you."

Tony nodded sympathetically. "So…how are you feeling? What's the damage?"

"I'm okay," he replied. "Concussion, headaches, I have some more scans tomorrow and then I should be able to go home."

"That's great, man," Tony said with genuine relief as he fought the residual effects of the morphine.

Ziva gently held Tony by the chin and moving his head from left to right as she inspected the bruises on his face.

"Hmmm…you are not as handsome as you were 48 hours ago but you will recover," she said appraisingly.

Their attention was drawn to the end of the bed where Palmer was shaking his head and clicking his tongue very Ducky-like.

"This could have been so much worse," Palmer said as he read Tony's medical chart. "If the bullet had hit a little lower, you may have bled out before they got you to a hospital."

"Let me guess, Palmer," Tony replied wincing as he shifted to a more comfortable position. "They haven't taught 'bedside manner' yet at med school."

"Sorry, Tony," Jimmy said feeling a blush colouring his face. "It's just that, until now, most of my patients have been animals or dead."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said, his eyes darting nervously toward the door. "So…where's Gibbs?"

"The Boss came to see you after your surgery but said you were sleeping," McGee replied, not noticing Tony's guilty expression.

"Gibbs is interrogating Saleem Akram and some of the surviving terrorists," Ziva replied. "He will see you during visiting hours this evening."

She exchanged a concerned glance with Abby, as Tony appeared to relax at the news that the lead agent wouldn't be arriving anytime soon.

McGee sighed heavily.

"Something wrong, Timmy?" Abby asked.

"I just wish someone had been able to intercept the Under Secretary before he left the country," McGee said. "I suppose we'll have to be happy that Brady will have to stand trial."

"You know what they say, McGee," Jimmy said clapping a supportive hand on Tim's shoulder. "A bird in the hand…"

"Catches the worm," Ziva finished incorrectly and while there were a few furtive glances among the group, nobody had the heart to tell her that she'd slaughtered another proverb.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Ziva said lifting a large gift bag onto Tony's bed. "I have a gift for you both."

"Really? That's very nice of you, Ziva, but you shouldn't have," McGee gushed.

"The gifts are not from me, they are from Agent Fornell."

"Toby sent us get well gifts?" Tony asked around a jaw-cracking yawn. "Are they ticking, did you check for wires, submerge them in water, have Abby x-ray them, evacuate the hospital?"

"Come on, Tony, give the guy a break," McGee replied. "He did help us out yesterday and I think it's very nice of him to send a get well gift."

Dismissing Tony's scepticism, McGee turned to Ziva as she gave a parcel bag to both men.

"I love presents! What is it? What did you get?" Abby said excitedly as she assisted a "one-armed" Tony to open his gift.

McGee's expression changed from anticipation to confusion as he opened his parcel.

"Gap filler?" he said glancing across at Tony in time to see him awkwardly unveil a small hammer.

"The gifts also come with a message," Ziva said with a smirk, obviously enjoying her partner's confusion. "He said that as soon as you are both well enough, he expects you to help him to repair his cabin."

"Well, that's gratitude," McGee remarked. "We probably saved him a fortune in air conditioning."

"That is true," Ziva replied. "But the man's cabin has more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese. Be glad he does not expect you to pay for the cost of the repairs."

Tony tried valiantly to stifle another yawn and it was obvious that he was battling to stay awake.

"You are tired," Ziva stated, patting his leg through the blanket. "We will let you rest and will come back tonight with Gibbs."

Abby lowered the bed and helped Tony settle and then gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was a little worried that Tony seemed more subdued than usual but had put it down to residual weakness, post op lethargy and possibly the pain meds he was taking.

"Sleep well, I'll come back and see you later."

"Thanks, Abs," Tony mumbled, fading fast.

"Why don't I arrange to eat my dinner in here with you?" McGee suggested. "If it's as unpalatable as breakfast we can suffer together."

"Good idea, Probie, see you for dinner," Tony slurred.

Palmer bid Tony goodbye and guided McGee's wheelchair toward the door when Tony roused a little.

"Probie?" he said lifting his head from the pillow as exhaustion seeped through his veins.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"You did good, Tim."

McGee was caught off guard by the sincerity of the comment and the unflinching gaze. Not trusting his voice, he could only nod in response before the wheelchair was pushed toward the door again.

"Probie!" Tony called again. "Do something for me?"

"Sure, Tony, what do you need?"

"_Alimente sus pollos y puso el gato fuera_." Tony said fluently.

"Go to sleep, Tony," McGee said holding back a grin as Palmer resumed pushing the wheelchair into the corridor.

"Was that Spanish?" Jimmy asked. "What did he say?"

Ziva looked confused by the statement but was curious about the wide smile that appeared on McGee's face. She translated the phrase for Abby and Jimmy.

"He said, feed the chickens and let the cat out," she repeated in English.

As his friends made their way to McGee's room, Tony heard Jimmy's voice fading into the distance. "I didn't know Tony had chickens! I thought he lived in an apartment?"

Tony's eyes closed against his will and he fell quickly and deeply into a peaceful and healing sleep.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

He heard the squeak of a plastic lid being removed from a Styrofoam coffee cup and the aroma of strong coffee wafted over to him. He kept his eyes closed as he heard the soft creak of the bedside chair as his visitor shifted his bodyweight. He held his breath for a moment and expelled a sigh of resignation knowing he could avoid the conversation no longer.

"Boss?" he said.

"Not the Boss you were expecting," the visitor replied.

Immediately alert, Tony's eyes snapped open and he turned quickly to face the man sitting at his bedside. He bit back a groan when his shoulder throbbed painfully.

"Director Vance," he said bitterly. "Come to see the results of your handy work or to finish the job yourself?"

"I've come to talk, DiNozzo, to explain," the Director replied calmly.

"With all due respect, Director, I'm off the clock and you're just about the last person I wanna see right now."

"Really? Who's the last person?" Vance asked curiously.

Tony ignored the question and responded flatly. "Say what you want and then get the hell out."

He fought against the pull of exhaustion and pain medication and silently listened as Vance proceeded to tell him how the Under Secretary and Jason Brady had fabricated the terrorist threat in order to confirm the existence of a "mole" in their own department and the possible existence of a terrorist cell in Virginia. They had hoped to use that information to gain political favour and secure their positions.

Adhering to his "confidential arrangement" with SecNav, Vance told Tony that both he and SecNav had been following orders when they, in turn, ordered McGee and Tony to undertake the assignment.

"I could have told you this was a set-up…no wait…_I did!" _Tony snarled.

Despite the green eyes that impaled him with enough intensity to make him squirm, Vance continued to hold Tony's gaze as the agent spoke his mind.

"You made it abundantly clear from the start, that there's no place for agents like me at NCIS," Tony hissed. "We all know that you'd prefer an agency with a lot of McGee and Keating clones running around. Well, you may have got your wish, Director, because I'm considering my career options."

"I won't deny that I believe as technology improves, agents like McGee and Keating will be the future of this and many other government agencies," Vance said and to his credit, he looked Tony straight in the eye. "McGee informed me that he would not have made it out alive had you not been with him. Your instincts, your skill and your experience saved you both and allowed us to neutralise a dangerous terrorist cell."

"Did McGee also tell you that _he_ saved _my_ life?" Tony asked.

"No, he didn't. I'll read about it in your report," Vance continued. "The point is, heedless of your warning; I sent you and McGee into a situation that I knew next to nothing about, without accurate intel and without back-up. Whilst I assure you that I was acting under orders and I can't elaborate on the details, I give you my word that, effective immediately, no agent under my direction will ever knowingly be placed in that situation again. You did an exceptional job and you did NCIS proud. "

Tony nodded sullenly; temporarily unable to find the words to respond.

"Agents like you and Gibbs are a pain in my ass…but you get the job done and you keep me on my toes," Vance said as he stood to leave. "I hope you change your mind about leaving – NCIS will be sorry to lose you." He had almost exited the room when Tony called after him.

"Director!" Tony took several deep breaths, determined to ask Vance the question he'd been asking himself since this assignment began.

"Was Gibbs involved in this? Did he know about the assignment?"

Vance's calm features belied the surprise the question evoked.

"Gibbs learned about the assignment when he got back from Parris Island. He smelled a rat immediately and demanded answers. His first and only priority was finding you and bringing you home safely."

Tony searched the man's eyes for deceit but found only truth and sincerity.

He closed his eyes and pulled the covers up over his injured shoulder, listening to the sound of the closing door as the Director left the room.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Director Vance's words kept echoing in Abby's mind and she swiped angrily at the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She drove her bright red 1931 Model A Ford Coupe, frantically back to the Navy yard.

"_I hope you change your mind about leaving – NCIS will be sorry to lose you."_

As two members of the Major Case Response team were currently hospitalised and due to their recent heavy workload, the Director had removed the extended team, including Abby, Ducky and Palmer from rotation for a few days break.

Despite Vance's instruction, Gibbs had refused to allow anyone other than himself to interview and take the statements from Saleem Akram. He was not about to risk a mistake that would let Akram off the hook on a technicality. He told Ziva that once all the reports and paperwork were completed, he would call at the hospital to see Tony and McGee during evening visiting hours.

Ziva, Abby and Palmer had visited their friends at the hospital earlier in the day and while they had headed home, intending to return this evening, Abby stayed to keep a restless and bored McGee company in his hospital room and periodically popped into the room next door to check on a sleeping and slightly feverish Tony.

Although Tony was still sleeping, Abby felt bad that there was nobody watching over him. She walked quietly to his room, intending to place Bert the Hippo on his rollaway table, so he would see him when he woke up. She was about to knock on the door when she heard the words that sent her running for her car and heading for the Navy yard.

She tried to phone Gibbs three times during her trip, each time reaching his voice mail and leaving a garbled, tearful message for him to call her back right away. Finally, upon arriving at NCIS she passed the security checkpoint and quickly made her way to the bullpen, her heart dropping when she saw that Gibbs was not at his desk. She tried his cell again and angrily snapped her own closed when she reached his voicemail again.

Abby spun around at the soft ding of the elevator, praying it heralded Gibbs' return. Her shoulders slumped as Agents Mitchell and Matthews stepped out from the elevator.

"Are you okay, Abby?" Agent Mitchell asked.

"I need to find Gibbs," she replied.

"Try interrogation room one," Matthews said. "He's been in there all morning."

She entered observation room one and watched as Gibbs slammed the palms of both hands onto the table in front of Saleem Akram and impaled him with a withering glare. The man rocked back but then resumed his insolent, repugnant expression.

Abby took a deep breath and braced herself as she knocked on the door to the interrogation room. The door swung open and Gibbs' furious expression ignited her fear and anger.

"Before you say anything, Gibbs, yes I know about rule 22 - 'Never, ever bother Gibbs in interrogation,' but…like…right at the moment, I just don't care!" she said as her resolve crumbled and she sobbed against his shoulder.

Closing the door behind him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and asked in a quiet, concerned voice.

"Abs, what is it?"

He knew the answer before she responded and Abby confirmed his suspicion with a choked reply.

"It's Tony, he's leaving Gibbs – you have to stop him!" she sobbed.

"Did he talk to you, Abs, did he tell you he was leaving?"

"No, I heard Director Vance tell Tony that he hoped he would change his mind and that NCIS would miss him," Abby's green eyes were swimming in an ocean of tears as she looked at Gibbs for answers. "You need to go and see him, Gibbs. You know how stubborn he is! You're the only one who can talk to him when he gets like that!"

"Abs, I can't leave now. I've got two more interviews and then I have to sign off the reports."

Abby curled her fingers into a fist and punched Gibbs in the shoulder.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"You've had that coming for a while now, Mister," Abby scolded. "And when Tony feels better, I have another fist with his name on it. I don't know what's going on between you and Tony and I don't want to know…okay, so maybe I _do_ want to know but not right at this moment…anyway, you need to fix it, Gibbs. Tony's been shot and he's in the hospital! You have to go and talk to him before it's too late. He won't listen to anyone else!"

"I will, Abs, as soon as I finish up here, I'll go and talk to him."

"But that could take hours!" Abby whined.

"He's not going anywhere! Ducky says the docs are gonna keep him another three days."

"You'll talk to him tonight?"

"I promise," he said leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek. "Your exhausted, Abs. Why don't you go home, grab a few hours sleep and I'll meet you at the hospital for evening visiting hours?"

Abby's quick acquiescence laid testimony to how tired she was and with another hug for good measure he watched her walk wearily toward the exit.

'_I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, DiNozzo, but you can bet I'm gonna find out tonight,' _he thought to himself before opening the door and continuing his interrogation of the shamelessly repugnant terrorist.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Gibbs entered McGee's hospital room to find the younger man reaching for the bedside phone.

"Boss, I was just about to call you?"

"You okay, McGee?"

"Yeah, Boss, I'm fine. The doc says I can leave in the morning after some precautionary scans," McGee replied. "I wanted to call you about Tony."

"He's not in his room," Gibbs said. "Thought he might be in here with you."

"That's why I was calling. Tony and I were going to have dinner in his room but when I got there he was gone," McGee explained worriedly. "Boss, the nurses said he signed himself out AMA about 30 minutes ago."

"Dammit, Tony," Gibbs muttered under his breath.

"Boss, he shouldn't be walking around. Why do you think he'd just leave like that?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Gibbs replied curtly. "I'll take care of DiNozzo, you get some rest. Abby will be here soon – tell her I've gone after Tony and I'll call her later."

Gibbs turned on his heel and headed for the exit. Reaching the elevator he pressed the call button with far more force than was necessary, startling two nurses who were also waiting.

He knew Tony hated hospitals with a passion and this wasn't the first time he'd been boneheaded and stubborn enough to sign himself out before he was medically cleared. The soft ding heralded the arrival of the elevator and, in his haste; he squeezed between the doors before they were fully open.

He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he remembered his conversation with Abby. He didn't blame DiNozzo for being so damn fired up that he was thinking of leaving NCIS, but usually he would seek out Gibbs and air his feelings. This time was different, this time Tony was avoiding him and he intended to get to the bottom of it if he had to kick in the door of Tony's apartment and tie him to a chair until he talked.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

"Gibbs, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied gently shouldering passed Tony and entering the apartment. "Last I heard, you were supposed to be in Bethesda for another 3 days."

"I'm fine," Tony said frowning at the intrusion. "The doctor said rest and sleep and I was just heading for bed...so...if you wouldn't mind leaving?"

Gibbs frowned as he saw the slight tremble in Tony's hands and the sheen of perspiration on the younger man's face - obvious signs that he should still be in the hospital.

"Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me," Gibbs said taking a seat on the couch and giving every indication that he wasn't leaving anytime soon. "Let's have it. What's on your mind?"

Tony closed the door forcefully. He had planned to wait until he felt stronger before having this discussion but Gibbs had taken the initiative and Tony felt rushed and unprepared. Too worked up to sit down he began to pace – frustration, pain and anger emanating from every pore as he tried to choose his words.

"I'll tell you what's on my mind," he laughed humourlessly. "I know that paperwork is not my strong suit, but somewhere along the way, I missed the memo that named me as the fall guy for my bosses every time one of them has a damn personal agenda! I love my job, Gibbs, but when the people who are supposed to have my back are the ones pinning bull's-eyes to it, then it's time to consider other career options, don't you think?"

"Your bosses?" Gibbs queried.

"First Jenny, now Vance or the Under Secretary or whoever the _hell_ thought up this freakin assigment – oh and let's not forget you!" Tony said, his anger boiled over as his pacing continued. "Each time I followed orders and each time I took the fall. Did Jenny ever tell you that I was offered my own team in Rota? I turned it down because I felt there was still a lot I could learn from you, but I gotta tell you, Gibbs, if that's the kind of stuff you're teaching now, then it's time I moved on."

Gibbs didn't try to hide his confusion as he matched Tony's volume.

"I wasn't involved in the Khalil operation, DiNozzo!"

"No, but you masterminded that whole Agent Lee/Domino fiasco that you didn't see fit to tell me about," Tony accused.

"Hey, we discussed the Agent Lee thing - that's history. I thought we'd moved on!" Gibbs defended loudly.

"_You moved on, Gibbs, you moved on!!"_ Tony shouted._ "I'm still lying on the floor of that fake security facility with a huge headache, wondering why the hell my partner of eight years would set me up and leave me twisting in the wind!"_

"I explained why I didn't tell you about that!"

"You said you didn't tell me because you knew I could handle it. Well, guess what? I tried to handle it, Gibbs, I really did. I understand that Langer was a member of your team and he was killed on your watch – I get that – and I get that you were hell-bent on finding his killer. What I don't understand is why you would risk the lives of two more of your team to make that happen. Ziva and I could have been killed going after Domino, did you even think about that?"

Gibbs felt a sharp pang of culpability at the truth of Tony's words but he knew guilt was a useless game, one he had no desire to lose himself in. Sure, he wished things had gone differently and he certainly hadn't meant for Tony and Ziva to be injured but he did what he had to do to clear Langer's name and to expose Agent Lee as a traitor and a murderer.

He looked at Tony, noting the corded neck muscles and the pained expression on his too pale face. For someone who made their living from reading people, Gibbs hadn't seen this coming and he realised that, sometimes, he had no idea how to read his Senior Field Agent.

"I never meant for you to get hurt," he said in a strong and steady voice, "but that happened months ago. How does that relate to now?"

"I'll tell you how it relates, Gibbs, it relates because I hesitated. We bought the cell phone an hour _before_ we went to the safe house and I could have called you straight away but I didn't," Tony said, still agonising over his decision. "I was the senior agent and my decision to wait could have got McGee killed."

"But it didn't," Gibbs told him calmly. "It was an oversight made in the heat of the moment."

"_It wasn't a damn oversight,"_ Tony yelled. "_I **chose** not to call you."_

Frowning, Gibbs replied. "Why? Why wouldn't you call me for help?"

"Because I didn't know whether this was one of your secrets, like Domino, another elaborate plan that you chose to keep to yourself. Another "situation", this time with McGee and me as the means to an end," he paused slightly and Gibbs could see the anguish that had been tormenting him.

"_I didn't call you because I didn't know if I could trust you!"_ The words tumbled from Tony's mouth before he could censor them and they cut Gibbs deeply.

Gibbs saw no vestige of the friendship they'd shared for the last eight years – just raw and exposed feelings of betrayal.

"A thousand times, I've heard you say, when you share your foxhole with a stranger, you become brothers. I've been watching your back for eight years, Gibbs, _what the hell does that make me?" _

Tony stopped pacing, breathing hard with a hand pressed against his aching shoulder; his green eyes searched Gibbs' for an answer that, for once, the lead agent didn't have.

"Tony, I…"

Tony waited until it was obvious that Gibbs couldn't complete the sentence. His legs were shaking with the effort of staying upright and his breaths were coming in short sharp bursts.

"I need to sleep." Tony cleared his throat and with it, any hint of emotion. "You should leave…lock the door behind you."

Leaving Gibbs still sitting on the couch, Tony turned and walked into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N:- The cat is now well and truly among the pidgeons! I hope you join me for the final chapter to see how Tony and Gibbs resolve this situation. Thanks for reading and for your amazing support of this story, L**


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and no copyright infringement is intended.**

**Chapter 15**

A/N Just a little reminder that this story takes place after the S6 episode Cloak and before the S6 episode Bounce - where Gibbs gave Tony wonderful support.

Thank you all for your overwhelming support of this story. From those of you who took the time to review, critique and encourage after each chapter, to those of you who read quietly along in the background, L

**Oo00oO**

"How is he?" Gibbs asked as he poured a cup of coffee for the ME and a fresh cup for himself.

Ducky shook his head in exasperation and clicked his tongue loudly on the back of his teeth.

"Extraordinarily stubborn and pig-headed!" Ducky replied.

"Sounds about right."

"He simply refuses to return to the hospital despite the fact that he is in pain and running a low grade post-operative fever," Ducky lamented.

"Say the word and I'll have an ambulance here in minutes."

"No…don't bother…I gave him a sedative, he's sleeping now and there's no sign of infection in his wound. At least he had sense enough to have his antibiotics and pain med prescriptions filled at the hospital pharmacy before he left," Ducky said, sighing heavily. "As long as he gets plenty of rest and takes his meds he should be fine here. I'll look in on him daily to change his dressings until he's on his feet but I would feel better if someone were to stay with him."

"I'll stay tonight, Duck, but DiNozzo would probably prefer you to find someone else to stay from tomorrow onwards."

"Yes," Ducky said looking puzzled. "I felt the tension in the air when I mentioned you were still here. I got the distinct impression that our Anthony is quite cross with you."

Gibbs huffed out a laugh. "He by-passed cross, Duck, and went straight to pissed."

"Oh dear," Ducky said walking from the kitchen to the living room and taking a seat on the couch. "Anthony has had a difficult few days, perhaps he'll calm down after he's had some rest. Although…I'm not sure I understand how he can blame you for the Khalil assignment."

"It's not the Khalil assignment - he's still pissed at me about the Agent Lee/Domino operation."

"Ah…I see."

"Do you, Duck?" Gibbs said raking a hand through his hair in frustration and taking a seat across from the older man. "Then maybe you can explain it to me 'cause I haven't got a clue why he's so worked up about something that was over months ago."

"Over for you, Jethro, but obviously not for Anthony," the elderly medic replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gibbs asked feeling his exasperation levels rising with every minute.

"Oh really, Jethro," Ducky scolded. "For someone with exceptional observation skills sometimes you can't see what's right in front of you!"

"Dammit Ducky, will you stop channelling my ex-wives and tell me what the hell you're talking about!"

"I'm talking about you, my dear friend. Single-minded focus is an admirable trait in an investigator but it can do irreparable damage to marriages and friendships."

"You _really are_ channelling my ex-wives," Gibbs quipped. "Come on, Duck, it's late and I'm tired and in no mood for guessing games."

Ducky sighed audibly. "Do you remember when Anthony first came to us at NCIS? So bright and full of promise. Yet, behind that bravado and bluster was a young lad who had never stayed in one place longer than two years," Ducky smiled sadly at the recollection. "In fact, if I remember correctly, the other agents ran a pool on how long he'd last on your team. The smart money was less than a month, yet here we are eight years later."

"Ducky, please!"

"You cured him of his flight instinct, Jethro. Over time, you came to believe in him and in his abilities unconditionally. He'd never had that before. You became someone he could trust with his life and, more importantly to Anthony; he was someone _you_ trusted with _your_ life."

"That hasn't changed," Gibbs said.

"It changed for Anthony," Ducky said solemnly. "It changed the minute you excluded him from your plans in the Domino operation and knowingly placed him in a highly dangerous situation. Don't you see, Jethro? By not allowing Anthony into your confidence, you undermined the very foundation of your working relationship. Then, when he questioned you about it and asked you for an explanation, you brushed it under the carpet and told him to handle it. Is it really any wonder that he's second guessing your motives?"

The room was thick with a heavy silence as both men contemplated the seriousness of the situation.

"What about you, Duck?" Gibbs asked. "As I recall, you were pretty pissed with me as well."

"And with just cause, Jethro! You misappropriated poor Petty Officer Dent from my care to partake in your clandestine plan," Ducky rebuked then softened his tone and added a shrug. "But we resolved the matter and put it behind us."

"Why is it that you could put it behind you and DiNozzo couldn't?" Gibbs asked him.

"I wasn't the one facing half a dozen angry Marines with live ammunition. I wasn't the one rendered unconscious when struck in the face by a rifle butt. I wasn't the one who could have been killed because the full details of the situation were purposely withheld from me."

A full minute passed before Gibbs nodded his head, conceding Ducky's point.

"Has Tony talked to you about this?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky rose to his feet and returned his empty cup to the kitchen. Walking back into the living room, he collected his coat, hat and medical bag and made his way to the door before turning to meet Gibbs' gaze.

"I'm not the one he needs to talk to," he said, before nodding goodnight and closing the door behind him.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

Gibbs sat deep in thought on the luxurious leather couch in Tony's apartment. He reflected on the angry, hurt-filled words and the look of betrayal he'd seen in Tony's eyes a few hours ago. He raised the coffee mug to his lips and attempted to take another sip before realizing it was empty.

His bad knee protested as he climbed to his feet and walked to the kitchen to prepare another pot. He changed the filter in the coffee machine and reached into the back of the refrigerator for the "stash" of his favourite blend that DiNozzo always kept on hand. The whirring and gurgling of the appliance was loud in the silence of the apartment, causing Gibbs to walk to Tony's bedroom door to ensure he hadn't disturbed him.

Gently pushing the door open a few inches, Gibbs saw the prostrate form of his Senior Field Agent, sleeping sprawled on the bed, slack-jawed and with his left arm strapped snugly across his chest to protect his injured shoulder.

_'DiNozzo and pain killers,_' he thought with a shake of his head and a wry grin. He was certain that, at the moment, Tony would sleep through a sonic boom. He pulled the door closed again and returned to the kitchen to wait for the coffee to percolate.

A few moments later with a freshly brewed coffee in hand, Gibbs gently flexed the tense muscles in his back as he walked around the stylishly furnished apartment. He'd been in this position too many times before - walking the floor of Tony's home after a concussion, injury or illness had laid him low. He knew this apartment almost as well as he knew his own home.

Opting for something to read, he glanced at the titles of the hard covers in the bookcase, quirking an eyebrow as he removed a copy of 'Deep Six.' He remembered how Tony had whined and pestered McGee for days to sign his copy. McGee had refused, certain that Tony was ridiculing him. Gibbs was sure that ridicule and a laugh at the younger man's expense were strong motives, but he also believed a small part of DiNozzo was pleased for McGee's success – not that Tony would _ever_ admit to that. Eventually, Gibbs had ordered McGee to sign the book so they could all get some work done. Opening the cover, he huffed a laugh at the inscription, noting that McGee had not used his pen name of Thom E Gemcity or his real name but had signed his so-called 'much-hated' nickname – Probie.

A photo frame on top of the bookcase caught his attention and he looked fondly at the photo of the smiling faces. The photo was a gift from Abby – she had given him an identical one – and it had been taken at a barbeque held at Ducky's home. He placed his now forgotten coffee on the end table, sat heavily in the recliner and looked at the photo. His grin faded when his eyes focused on Jenny's radiant smile and he gently traced her features with one finger.

_His team._

Besides his job, they were the only constants in his life since he'd lost Shannon and Kelly. With the exception of Ziva, he'd handpicked them, trained them, pushed them beyond their own expectations and protected them unconditionally. He dragged them onwards when they were too exhausted to continue and when they were overwhelmed or troubled. Although there were times they thought him an unfeeling, ruthless bastard they knew, without question, that he'd risk his life for each of them.

Tony's mega-watt smile mocked him from the photograph. During the last eight years they had become a highly proficient partnership as the senior agents of a team with an exceptional closure rate. He knew the team's success was due in no small part to the younger man's remarkable investigative skills, despite Tony's insouciant façade and clowning.

Oh, he knew there were many who thought Tony retained his position on the team by being a "yes man," jumping through hoops to please the Lead Agent. He'd lost count of the times Tony had shown up in his basement with a pizza and a six-pack to privately discuss, clarify, challenge or argue over one of Gibbs' decisions concerning an investigation or to offer alternative suggestions. To his credit, Tony's respect for him and the chain of command had prevented him from doing this publicly or in front of the junior agents.

_He_ knew very well that Anthony DiNozzo was his own man and although they were not flesh and blood, the intuitive ties that bound them, connected them, were forged by the unconditional trust that comes from watching someone's back and having them watch yours. Of course, they didn't always agree and they'd had some world-class arguments but he knew that whenever the younger man was troubled or _in _trouble – he was the one Tony sought out…until recently.

_"I didn't call you because I didn't know if I could trust you!"_

His stomach clenched painfully as Tony's anguished words replayed in his brain. Raising an unsteady hand, he scraped his fingers along his unshaven jaw and shook his head in silent denial.

When had he let this happen?

Tony's hesitation in contacting him had nearly resulted in both his and McGee's deaths. That hesitation was a direct result of the mistrust and doubt that Tony felt… because of him.

They had lost their connection and it had nearly proven fatal.

He looked at the photograph again – the smiling, relaxed faces - and he scrubbed his hands over his tired eyes. Casting his mind back to the day of Jenny's funeral, he knew instantly that that was when his relationship with his team members had started to unravel.

They had all been rocked by Jenny's death and hadn't even had time to adjust or to grieve before his team had been torn apart and his agents sent to different parts of the world – and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Within 48 hours, he had a new team – handpicked, but not by him. Tony was on board the Ronald Reagan, Ziva was in Israel and McGee was working in the Cyber Crimes Unit. His team, his "constant" had been torn away from him.

That was it.

That was the moment that he started to detach.

He still had his other constant – his job – but he refused to allow himself to form the attachments and working relationships he had with Ziva, McGee and Tony. Though he would never admit it – it hurt too damned much to lose them.

When Langer was murdered on his watch, he started to wonder whether his "distant" attitude had in any way contributed and, for the first time in his working life, he began to doubt himself.

_What had he missed? Could he have saved Langer?_

He began to work tirelessly to get his agents back and went one on one with Vance who appeared dead against recalling Tony. However, even after his team was reformed he still couldn't, wouldn't reconnect with any one of them, in case they were lost to him again.

Work-wise, they'd picked up where they had left off, as if they had never been parted and at their usual high standard. But the dynamic was off and Gibbs knew that each of them was affected by it.

McGee went from being "Boss" of Cyber Crimes, back to "Probie" and he was surly and arrogant at times. Ziva had returned from Israel distracted and sarcastic, her playful banter a distant memory.

And Tony? Hell, he was so thrown by the off-kilter team and by the absence of "attaboys" and head slaps that he reverted to his default position of team flake and class clown, which only served to further infuriate his teammates.

Gibbs took a deep breath and expelled it slowly as he reluctantly faced the truth. Oh he had his _agents_ back all right…but his _team_ was still missing and he'd been too distracted to notice.

Ducky was right.

_He_ had to fix this. He needed to clear the air with Tony and work at regaining his friendship and trust and he knew that in doing so…once Tony was back on an even keel…. the others would fall into line as well.

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--**

The pounding in his head kept pace with the throbbing pain in his shoulder and dragged Tony reluctantly from his sleep. He groaned softly when a glance at his bedside clock told him it was just after 0100.

He spent several moments trying to ignore the pain before he gingerly forced his protesting body upright and, using only one arm, carefully stepped into a pair of well-loved thread bare sweats. He stood gently swaying until the room stopped its nauseating spinning and allowed him to slowly walk to the connecting bathroom. He searched the medicine cabinet for Tylenol before remembering he had last seen it in one of his kitchen cabinets.

Another soft moan left his lips of its own volition and he brought his right hand to his left shoulder to support his very tender wound, feeling the thick wad of dressing beneath his t-shirt.

Opening his bedroom door he used the wall for support and tentatively shuffled his way towards the kitchen in the dim light. Sighing in relief, he made it to the kitchen and leaned on the counter to regain his breath before carefully reaching up to extract the Tylenol from the cabinet.

"Need some help?" came the unexpected voice from his living room.

Momentarily forgetting his injury, Tony spun toward the voice and choked back a moan as the sudden movement pulled painfully at his sutures.

"_God dammit, Gibbs_!" he hissed through tightly clenched teeth. _"You scared the crap outta me. What the hell are you doing here?"_

"Ducky's orders – somebody stays with you or we haul your ass back to Bethesda."

"You draw the short straw?" he asked tersely.

"Something like that," Gibbs replied, as he rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen to open the cabinet Tony had been attempting to reach. Spotting the Tylenol, he passed the box to Tony and removed the top from a bottle of water and handed it to him. He placed a new the filter in the coffee machine and started a new pot.

Tony fumbled, one handed and with trembling fingers, to remove the lid from his bottle of pain meds. Finally accomplishing the task, he swallowed his tablets and Tylenol and chugged half a bottle of water. Gibbs picked up the bottle of pain meds, held them at an arm's length and squinted to read the label.

"Says you should take these with food," he said matter of factly.

"I'm not hungry," Tony replied sharply. "I'm going back to bed."

"Sit," Gibbs directed pointing to the dining table.

He saw the mutinous look in the younger man's eyes as Tony bit back the temptation to tell Gibbs to go to hell and lowered his body carefully into a chair. Tony watched in bemusement at Gibbs' familiarity with his kitchen as he opened the freezer and removed two slices of frozen bread and placed them into the toaster. Moments later, they were lightly spread with butter and jam and placed in front of him.

"Eat what you can," Gibbs said quietly, as he helped himself to the freshly brewed coffee.

The younger man repeatedly swallowed the nausea burning the back of his throat and after only a few small bites of toast, he pushed the plate away and tried to rub the pain from his temples. The two men sat at the table in silence as the harsh words, spoken just hours ago, cast long shadows over them.

Gibbs watched in silence as Tony stood and left the kitchen, slowly easing himself onto the couch. He opened his mouth several times to speak but aborted the attempts without uttering a word.

"Just say it, DiNozzo," Gibbs coaxed taking a seat on the lounge chair opposite and taking a long draught of his coffee.

"I don't get it," he said in a voice frosted in anger. "I know I'm not the perfect agent but I do my job and I'm damn good at it. Why does this keep happening?"

"Maybe it keeps happening _because_ you're good at your job," Gibbs replied. "That's why Jenny picked you for the La Grenouille assignment. But I think you're forgetting something, it wasn't meant to be you this time. Vance didn't pick you for this assignment he picked Ziva - you accidentally crashed the party. That make you feel any better?"

"No!" Tony said angrily. He tilted his head in thought and added, "Maybe a little."

Gibbs dropped his eyes to the coffee table and fingered the GSM magazine that was serving as a coaster for his coffee mug. He drew a deep breath and looked back at the younger man.

"To tell you the truth, I'm glad it _was_ you out there."

Tony's exhausted eyes fixed on the lead agent. "What?"

"Ziva's a fine agent but she was trained as an assassin - get in, take out your target and get out. She doesn't have your background in undercover or your experience in the field," Gibbs told him. "And nobody has your God given talent to irritate and distract people."

Tony knew the last comment was said in good humour and he would normally have worn the acknowledgement as a badge of honour. Tonight, he was far from ready to let Gibbs off the hook and his uncompromising glare told the older man exactly that.

"Not only did you complete the assignment but you captured a dangerous terrorist, exposed a terrorist cell and helped end the career of some highly-placed politicians who abused their government positions. Most importantly, you had the skill to get yourself and McGee out alive. That's a _damn_ good job, Tony."

"And Vance?" Tony asked without acknowledging the rare praise.

"Was ordered and manipulated just like you were," Gibbs said.

"You believe that?"

"Yes, I do. By the time he realised he'd been duped, it was too late to stop it and he couldn't contact you," Gibbs said, "but he worked as hard as anyone to find you. I know how you feel about him, Vance and I have our own issues, but he wasn't the bad guy in this."

They sat quietly and Gibbs could almost see the cogs turning in Tony's head as the younger man tried to process the information through a haze of pain meds and fatigue. The water bottle, from which Tony had been drinking, was nearly empty and he had turned his attention to nervously peeling the damp label.

Tony understood that Gibbs spending the night on his couch and making sure he ate and took his meds, said more about their relationship than any words they could articulate and usually that was enough. However, a trust that Tony had thought to be impenetrable had been compromised by doubts and secrets and he needed to know whether it could ever be repaired or whether it was time to move on.

Gibbs watched silently, knowing that he should be the one to address the subject they'd both been avoiding but he felt uncomfortable and awkward as he mentally rehearsed his words. He reminded himself of his own rule, 'Apologies are a sign of weakness – except between friends,' and he took a deep bracing breath.

"Tony…I should have given you the full details of the Domino operation before I sent you into the facility," he said. "It was _never_ my intention for you or Ziva to be injured."

Tony nodded his head without conviction and was clearly not convinced.

"I used to tell myself that we were a good team, Gibbs, that we were always on the same page - but since I got back from the the Sea Hawk, we haven't even been in the same book!" Tony said, his green eyes intent and unflinching. "I have done my best to be a damn good Senior Field Agent to you! I watched your back and I gave you my trust and my loyalty!"

"Why'd ya think I fought so damn hard to get ya back?"

_"When did you decide that you couldn't include me in your plans? When did you stop trusting me?"_ Tony shouted as his anger and hurt boiled over again.

His sudden movement caused a sharp pain from his wound to steal his breath and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a few moments until the pain subsided.

Gibbs waited for Tony to recover and used the opportunity to gather his thoughts leaving an uncomfortable and disconcerting silence hanging between them.

"This was never about my trusting you. I thought I may have missed something that could have prevented Langer's death. I was so intent on finding his killer and exposing Lee that I didn't stop to think about who else might be affected."

Still wincing from the incessant throbbing of his shoulder, Tony carefully sought a more comfortable position on the couch.

"I can handle the single-mindedness and I've had eight years first hand experience of the second 'b' in Gibbs," Tony replied solemnly. "But we're partners! We've been partners for eight freakin years - before Blackadder, before Kate and before McGee and Ziva, there was just us - you and me! I deserved better than to be treated like that!"

"You're right," Gibbs replied honestly. "But you need to know that I had no knowledge of the Khalil operation. I would _never_ have sanctioned that."

"I know, Vance told me," Tony said quietly.

"Tony…Langer's death…the death of any agent… any team mate…is devastating. But to have almost lost you and McGee - because you didn't think you could trust me – is so much worse."

The sentence was punctuated with pauses and deep breaths that reflected Gibbs' struggle to put voice to the words. Tony and Gibbs were partners doing a tough job - men of action rather than words - who shared an unspoken bond. Other than the occasional "attaboy" or "on it Boss" they didn't require verbal endorsement - but when it was offered it was spoken and accepted with genuine sincerity and affection.

The feelings of anger, betrayal and mistrust would not disappear overnight but the determined look in the eyes of both men signified their intent and resolve to do everything in their power to repair the damage to their friendship and their partnership – the loss of which was a cost neither one could contemplate.

Tony tried and failed to stifle a yawn as the pain meds made their presence known. Gibbs leant forward, helping him to his feet and feeling a slight tremor and the heat of fever through Tony's t-shirt. He teetered a little before shuffling toward his DVD cabinet and selecting a small parcel wrapped in Christmas paper. He tossed the parcel to Gibbs.

"Bit early for Christmas, DiNozzo."

"I picked this up for you a few years ago but there never seemed to be a good time to give it to you," Tony said wearily. "Maybe this will help with your single-minded focus."

Gibbs raised a questioning eyebrow and began to tear the wrapping. He huffed out a laugh as he read the title of the movie 'Moby Dick.'

"I keep telling you, Boss," Tony said with a tired grin. "You and Captain Ahab have a lot in common."

A small reluctant grin teased at the corner of Gibbs' mouth and he looked up into the smiling green eyes of his senior field agent.

"Go to bed, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he watched Tony shuffle back toward his bedroom. "I've got your six."

**THE END**

**--oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--oo00oo--**

**A/N:-** Realistically, a breach of trust like this is not likely to heal overnight, therefore, the ending was purposely left a little open to slot back into the series before the episode Bounce and, later, Aliyah when the Tony/Gibbs relationship appeared to be getting back on track.

I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

With every good wish, L


End file.
